


This Is Hell and We Can't Leave

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Series: Once More With Chris [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Caliban Cove, Canon Typical Violence, Canon: Resident Evil 2 Remake (Video Game 2019), Leon (1) Claire (2) run, M/M, POV switch between Chris and Leon every other chapter, Precious Leon, Protective Chris, Re2make, References to Past Child Abuse, acknowledges canon from previous games, but with Chris, contains spoilers, i insert Chris into the game and stick to canon to the best of my ability, literally that's it, mentions of Resident Evil 1996, my brave brave boys, thanks to Chris's additional insight, this is gonna cover the entire Leon (1) run like all those spoilers and more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 02:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 103,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: After surviving the massacre at Arklay Mountain, Chris escapes from hell only to run into its fucking twin when he finds out that the virus has already spread to Raccoon City. Hoping to find his sister, he goes back to the Raccoon Police City Department only for him to run into rookie cop, Leon S. Kennedy. With both dead set on finding Claire and getting the hell out of the city, the two immediately partner up and promise themselves to get through this. Only problem is: This Is Hell and They Can't Leave.(summary by the lovelyNeo_Mitsu)((RE2make with Chris Redfield inserted into canon))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ALRIGHT SO
> 
> first off i went with the Leon (1) and Claire (2) canon runs because i felt like Chris wouldn't trust Leon AT ALL coming into Raccoon City if he didn't have some authoritative figure assuring him that Leon Kennedy is soft boi TM and can be trusted with your life and your heart 
> 
> the alternating POVs is gonna help me learn how to write Leon cause he's my fucking child and i don't wanna fuck it up
> 
> i have-- no idea how i'm gonna handle that cable car ride with Ada. that'll be like chapter 3 or something and it's gonna be great but oh boy hold onto your fucking seats is it gonna be a trip
> 
> also like-- Leon's def starstruck but that moreso always translated well into his character for me based on his interactions with "FBI" Ada Wong and Lt. Branagh like he obviously respects the ranking system but he's also got a good speech ready for why he should be included and that's- so- cute- myfuckinggod
> 
> LASTLY i have a head canon that Leon was abused as a child. i've got quite a few points to a argue for it as well, mainly being his ability to act very well under pressure likely coming from trauma (Claire can do the same and we know her trauma is the loss of both of her parents) and then also how Leon emphasizes he's Leon _S_ Kennedy meaning he doesn't want to be _just_ Leon Kennedy meaning there's another Leon Kennedy out there that Leon doesn't want to be associated with. i know the S.D. Perry books said Leon's father and uncle were cops and that he looked up to them, but the Perry books aren't considered character canon so i feel vindicated in my conclusions. plus there's also that steadfast _proteccproteccprotecc_ that usually shows up in kids that were either exposed to grotesque abuse or bullying or were faced with commonplace injustice etc. you can hella argue with me on this, but i wanted to add it cause idk it works well with Leon's motivations as a character and also explains how this rookie cop can do the shit he does.
> 
> with that, i hope you like it!

Chris knew he could have done something to stop this. 

As he stared down into ruins of the streets, facing the police station that was locked up tight but with no lights or life to be seen inside, Chris Redfield knew that part of the blame for what had become of this city— his _home_ — was his to bear. He knew he could have done something, could have fought harder, could have shouted louder. Chief Irons had turned them all away, suspending them for misconduct, ignoring their pleas for him to see the poisonous reach Umbrella had within the city. It had taken Chris ages to sift through the agony of being betrayed by the people he protected and the city he loved. And now, when he was only just starting to forgive, they were all gone, and he felt all the worse for the resentment he’d harbored for people who had been ignorant but without fault. 

Shambling in front of him, arms outstretched, one eye socket empty and the entire lower jaw gone, was Casey Fisher, the woman who would tell him good morning whenever he passed by her little antique shop on the way into the precinct. She had two kids that were off at university and her husband had passed away three years ago in a car accident. She’d been devastated to be widowed, but she’d never lost her faith in herself and her abilities and had kept her little antique shop running with strong will and bravery and a desire to do right by the dreams of her late husband.

Chris didn’t believe in heaven, but he liked to think the stumbling corpse in front of him was no longer Casey Fisher, and that she really was somewhere better with her husband, finally at peace and able to say that she’d done her best no matter what.

The thing that was once Casey Fisher moaned raggedly and kept advancing. There were more of these things behind Chris, all of them the undead that he had encountered back in the Arklay Mountains and the Spencer Mansion. He knew, especially with the pouring rain, that these people-turned-monsters would decay quickly and becoming nothing more than tormented pile of undying flesh in the matter of a week. It would be over for them soon. They were slow and stupid and he’d been able to dodge any and all that came across him. He hadn’t used a single bullet yet since coming back into the city. He had no reason waste any ammo.

Chris stared down Casey Fisher. She tripped and wailed and reached for him. He remembered the broken smile that had been on the woman’s face when Chris had heard of her husband’s death and he’d given his stunned condolences. He remembered how she’d thanked him for caring. 

Chris lifted his Samurai Edge and put a bullet perfectly into her jaw, the slug tearing through fleshed and bone and hitting her spine, her head exploding in a mess of red. Chris gave himself a firm nod, feeling better for having done that regardless of the waste of ammo. Casey Fisher didn’t deserve to be one of these things. 

He stepped around the fallen corpse, expertly keeping out of reach of the greedy fingers of the rest of the infected, and glanced over the precinct for a way in. Everything looked locked down, but he had one of Jill’s lock picks tucked away in his back pocket, a token of luck she’d given him before he’d left for Europe. He’d gotten some practice and he knew he’d be able to get through the old locks of the art-museum-gone-police-station if he could just find a lock in the first place. Chris ran through his knowledge of the precinct quickly and decided on the side gate that would lead through the eastern courtyard into the eastern hall, where he could get to the main hall and hopefully find someone. It seemed like his best bet. 

As he rounded the station, ducking between cars and hands and tried to keep his wits about him, he came into view of the fire that was burning on the side of the precinct itself. Chris grimaced and tightened his hold on his firearm, knowing the chances of finding survivors would be slim. He just prayed he wouldn’t find who he’d come to look for. 

Jill had been able to get a message to him only a few days ago that attempts to communicate with his little sister Claire had failed. The last word they’d received from her had been in the form of a letter stating Claire’s intentions to come into Raccoon City and find him. Jill had given this message to Chris just as the outbreak had begun. She’d been frantic and on her way out of the city and she’d still thought to tell Chris. Chris was beyond grateful and Barry had been the one to encourage him to return stateside to catch her, keep her from this horror. If anyone understood the lengths they would go to for family, it was Barry. Now Chris was back in Raccoon City and praying Claire had never made the trip. She probably would have taken her motorcycle with bare minimum leathers, the reckless dummy. Chris swallowed down the panic that welled in his chest at the idea of his baby sister being in that precinct and as dead as Casey Fisher. He prayed he would never have to face that reality if it ever came to be. 

There were limited zombies down the steps that led beneath the brick overhang and to the eastern courtyard. Chris counted himself lucky, but lamented the 14 rounds in his current clip and the single magazine at his side. He was going into this with far too little resources, regardless of Jill and Barry’s preference for packing light. He wished he’d listened to Rebecca and brought a little more firepower. 

Chris crept around a fence corner, eyes up and alert, seeing nothing in the empty expanse between him and the gate. Some undead rattled the fences to his right, but they weren’t any threat. He crouched low and moved to the door that should be locked, looking up the building. 

There was an entire fucking helicopter burning in the shambles of the second floor. The fire was still going strong, meaning the crash site was fresh. Chris prayed that whoever was inside had died before hitting the building— in his time in the Air Force, he’d seen a man burn alive while trapped into the broken remains of his craft. The screams hadn’t left Chris for weeks and the screams were returning to him now. Chris tore his eyes away from the sight and looked to the lock.

There was no lock.

The chain with the padlock was crumbled on the floor, broken away by what had to be bolt cutters. Chris wished he could feel lucky about this. All he could think of was what could have come inside before him now that the door was wide open for any and all. From beyond the fence gate, inside the precinct, Chris heard gunshots and a broken howl. “Great,” he whispered to himself, flexing his grip on his weapon because the rain was making him nervous about his ability to keep his hold. “I swear to god, Claire, I better not find you in here.”

He stood, forgoing stealth, knowing that whatever was inside wouldn’t be dormant like the zombies in the Spencer Mansion. These fuckers had been around for only three days and there was someone inside blowing off shots like it was nobody’s business. Chris would have to be fast and light on his feet. He was at an advantage for how well he knew the precinct. He knew there was a shotgun in the gun locker, and Wesker— _fucking Wesker_ — probably still had something useful hidden away inside his desk. There would be ammo and places for him to hide. He could do this. He would survive. For Claire.

Chris finally pushed through the fence gate and stepped into the precinct grounds, fighting back the wave of nostalgia. He knew this would be the last time he’d ever be here, knew that Raccoon City was condemned for the rest of forever. There was no recovery from this. This precinct, Chris’s work, his passion— all of it was gone. He would have to make his peace with that, Chris knew it, but that didn’t make him any happier to see such a beautiful city meet such an ugly end. 

More gunshots rang from inside, startling Chris from his thoughts. He wasn’t sure who was in there, but the rate of fire was even and controlled, not that panicked, trigger-happy staccato of a panicked citizen. Chris hoped he would find some sort of professional in here, someone who could give him answers. Chris moved quickly through the courtyard and to the door, also grimly pleased to find this unlocked as well. He hoped nothing would be locked and also hoped everything would. These things were tenacious when they were given audio stimulus. Chris knew zombies would gather in droves if they heard something that caught their attention, and even though they were slow, they were deadly in numbers. 

The hall was empty, save a slumped corpse on the ground, its head a mangled mess. Chris applauded whoever was still inside here. They knew to shoot for the head, unlike the regular masses and officers who would go for the body. Chris had expected the officers to fall into their training, never making fatal shots, always taking out limbs to render the zombies immobile, which was a good plan until realizing these fuckers could crawl. Whoever this was had either seen a ton of horror films or knew what they were doing. 

As Chris passed the press room, though, and remembered the day Chief Irons had stood proud with a hand on Albert Wesker’s shoulder, introducing him as the new captain of S.T.A.R.S., Chris suddenly realized that maybe having someone who knew what they were doing wasn’t a good thing. They could easily be a plant or a spy, someone who had the knowledge because they were part of the scheme. It was stupid to think that Albert Wesker was the only person who had been bought out, especially after Chris had spent so long digging into the Umbrella mess that was S.T.A.R.S. nationwide. There was a very high chance that there was someone in this precinct who wasn’t Chris’s ally— in fact, they could very well be the enemy he had been searching for in Europe.

Chris grit his teeth and told himself he may just have to shoot first and ask questions later, even when it came to those who were still human. Losing Claire wasn’t worth the risk he would take just for the off chance that he could have a partner through this. Chris told himself he would go it alone. He just couldn’t trust anyone that had been in this city, not anymore. He couldn’t trust a single citizen, a single cop, a single friendly face, unless he knew strictly otherwise. Chris was on largely his own and that was it. 

He readjusted his grip on the Samurai Edge for the millionth time and burst into the main hall, squinting against sudden golden light, the first sign of life beyond the gunshots. Chris shielded his eyes and let his sight adjust before sweeping his gaze across the hall and seeing—

“Lieutenant Branagh!”

The man didn’t respond from where he was slumped across a lounge sofa, one hand holding a horrible bloody wound at his side, the other hand lifeless across the keys of a standard issue Toughbook. Chris approached cautiously despite the worry that was thumping in his chest. Contrary to Chris’s thoughts for literally a second ago about being unable to trust anyone, Lt. Marvin Branagh had been one of the few officers on the force that had been sorry to see S.T.A.R.S. go, even pulling Chris aside to pry deeper into Chris’s accusations against Wesker and Umbrella. If there had been anyone in the precinct that Chris would have considered an ally, it was Lt. Branagh, and to see the man alive but in such a bad state was dizzying. “Lieutenant Branagh,” Chris repeated softly as he stood in front of the man, gun raised, still ready to take the shot, still ready to kill another friend, but still wanting to believe he wouldn’t have to. The man stirred, a low growl leaving his throat. Chris hovered his finger over the trigger and waited. 

Those eyes open and familiarity washed over Lt. Branagh’s pained expression. “Redfield?” he asked before coughing raggedly, more blood staining his shirt. “Jesus christ, Redfield, what are you doing here?”

“Branagh,” Chris breathed in relief, lowering his gun and tucking it away before moving forward to help the man sit up. “I came for my sister. I know I’m not supposed to be back, but I heard she could have been here. Have you seen her?” He knew that Branagh was dying and there was nothing either of them could do for it. There was too much blood on his clothes and as Chris touched the skin of his arm, it felt cold. Marvin Branagh was dying and Chris couldn’t help him. All he could do was ask what questions he could and hoped someone, somewhere, would pay for what they’d done to this city. “I need to find her.”

“All I know,” Lt. Branagh began through ragged little spits of blood and winces of pain. “Is that a woman was down at the East courtyard gate and another officer went down to get her. Don’t remember her name. My head… it’s fuzzy…” He was infected, Chris knew that much. Chris resolved himself not to do anything about it until it was necessary.

“Another officer,” Chris repeated, focusing on the facts. “Were those the gunshots I heard?”

“More than likely.” Branagh grunted and shifted and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing raggedly. “You need— to find him. He’s found a way out. You need to get him out of here. And the girl, if she’s there.”

“How do you know I can trust him?” Chris felt bad for asking, felt bad for implying that Lt. Branagh’s judgement wasn’t true, but he couldn’t take the chance. “I know you’re not stupid, Lieutenant,” Chris explained carefully. “You know as well as I do that Umbrella is behind this and Umbrella could have its hands on _anyone._ I’m here for my sister— I don’t want to put her anymore at risk.”

“He’s new,” Lt. Branagh groaned, holding his wound. “Fresh in from New York City, one of the best, top ten of his class. We were damn lucky that he requested to be sent here rather than any other huge place that would have loved to get their hands on him. Officer Kennedy. He hasn’t been in this city more than a few hours. If there’s anyone in this place you can trust, it’s him. He’s as clean as clean gets.”

Chris didn’t believe that for a second. The gunshots he’d heard were from someone with a good head on their shoulders, not some rookie cop. There was no way this Officer Kennedy was trustworthy, regardless of what Lt. Branagh thought. Hell, Chris didn’t even know how the infected had gotten inside or how Branagh had been injured. And a rookie cop coming in at the same time as a the breakout? It was too coincidental. Chris steeled his jaw and told himself he wouldn’t even bother with questions— Officer Kennedy was not someone to be trusted. 

Lt. Branagh searched Chris’s expression and smiled wretchedly. “I can see it in you,” he said with a wheeze. “That paranoia— that fear. You don’t think you can trust anyone.” Chris didn’t respond, knowing the grimace he wore would say enough. “Trust me, Redfield. Once you lay eyes on this kid, you’ll know there’s no way in hell he could be bought. Ever since he met me, he’s been dead set on saving my ass. You and I both know I can’t be helped. I’m sure he does too, deep down, but he sure as hell ain’t gonna give in. I barely know him, but I know his aptitude scores and I know his abilities and I know good people when I see them. He’s one of my men, Redfield. Don’t you dare hurt him.”

Chris prayed Lt. Branagh was right, if only so that Chris wouldn’t have to betray a dying man’s wish. “I’ll do my best,” he said. “What’s the status on getting out of here?”

“Kennedy is working on it,” Lt. Branagh said. “Help him where you can, for my sake. Both of you better get out of here alive, you hear me?”

Chris nodded. “And the woman?”

“Kennedy will find her,” Branagh said. “From there, it’s up to you. You’ve seen this, mentioned it in the mansion in Arklay— I’m sorry you have to be in it again, but make sure Kennedy survives this as well as yourself. Good people don’t deserve to die like this.” 

As Lt. Branagh shifted and winced, Chris said, “Good people don’t deserve to die like you.”

Lt. Branagh wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I sent him to the East Courtyard, but if that’s where you came from, then he’s probably deeper in the station. Find him. Get him and yourself out of here, through the basement. Here.” Lt. Branagh moved and leaned forward, pulling something out from behind the Toughbook— ammo for Chris’s firearm. Chris took it with gratefulness, mentally adding up his forty-four bullets and praying he’d have enough. “You’re a good man, Redfield,” Branagh told him. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”

Chris nodded again and tucked away the magazine. “I’ll see you soon,” he told the Lieutenant. “Keep an eye out for me.”

Lt. Branagh tried to smile. “Watch your back, Redfield.”

There was the sound of gunshots from beyond. Chris flinched and tried not to think of the inevitable for the man sitting in front of him. He knew Marvin knew what was coming— he just prayed the turn would be quick. 

“That sounds like that came from the safety deposits,” Lt. Branagh said. “Go find my officer and make sure he can solve the puzzle. Stupid shit, having puzzles here. He’s got a smart head, he can handle it for you. Just keep him safe and you’ll both make it.”

“And my sister—”

“Is the least of your concerns right now,” Lt. Branagh interrupted. “You can’t help her if you’re dead, Redfield.”

He was right and Chris hated it. He stood and squared his shoulders, pulling out his firearm again. “I’ll be back,” he swore. “Sit tight, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t keep me waiting long, Redfield.”

Chris gave a final nod and then left quickly through the recreation room, knowing where to go and happy for the fact. Unlike the mansion, Chris had spent countless hours in this place. He knew it better than this rookie cop ever would, giving him the advantage again. Branagh’s confidence in the cop wasn’t something Chris would bet his life on. The way those gunshots sounded, measured and deliberate— there was no way Officer Kennedy was a cherry. There was just no fucking way.

It was a long way to the deposits room with the door to the west office being locked by those dumb keys that Chief Irons insisted they kept. The sound of gunshots rang to his right, and then— a really fucking loud bang. Alright, so Officer Kennedy had gotten his hands on the shotgun. Color Chris impressed. Even he had no idea where that gun locker keycard could be kept, though it was likely in someone’s office, maybe Wesker, but Leon couldn’t have gotten into Wesker’s office, so likely in Irons. All of the windows Chris was passing down the hall were boarded up, the undead slapping uselessly at the glass they wouldn’t be able to break. Officer Kennedy knew what he was doing down to the fucking T, like he’d been briefed on the situation and what to do before hand. He was a fucking spy.

Chris pictured the man in his mind— some gruff adult with harsh glances and permanently downturned lips. Strong grip and strong stance, cold eyes, indifference to the zombies that had once been people. Some sort of animalistic or sociopathic edge to the corners of his person, a weapon on legs, a threat. Branagh had said he looked like a good man, but Branagh had trusted Wesker and Irons in a way Chris had never been able to achieve. Branagh wasn’t necessarily a trustworthy judge of person. 

Officer Kennedy was probably tall with sleek hair and sharp expressions and deadly intent in every limb of his body. As Chris moved from the hallway through Operations and into the hall that held the door to deposits, Chris couldn’t help but picture Albert fucking Wesker, staring them down and signing them all up for a twisted science experiment. Officer Kennedy was his enemy and laying his eyes on the man would not change the fact. 

There was shuffling beyond the door of deposits, footsteps that were human, controlled and steady and not the shuffling brush of the undead dragging their feet on the floor. Chris brought up the Samurai Edge and steeled his resolve, picturing Claire and Lt. Branagh and Casey Fisher and everyone who had suffered at the hand’s of Umbrella’s negligence and disregard for human life. Everyone Chris had lost, his friends in S.T.A.R.S., his faith in his goal, his home. All of that was because of Umbrella and the man behind this door, working his way through Chris’s precinct for some master plan that would be the end of them all, stone cold and inhuman like Wesker in every way. The door began to swing open and Chris had his finger on the trigger as—

As a boy came through.

Not a man, a boy, a fucking boy, that was all he could be. His eyes were too wide and bright, his face was too young, his hair was too clean, he wasn’t supposed to be in a place like this. It was Officer Kennedy, it had to be, but Chris couldn’t connect the name and motives he’d assumed with this boyish face, with this innocence. Even with blood staining his uniform, Officer Kennedy looked _raw_ in the same way Rebecca had looked to Chris back in the Spencer Mansion. This man— this kid— he wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t supposed to be in this hell. He wasn’t supposed to be seeing horrors like this. 

Officer Kennedy nearly ran into the muzzle of Chris’s gun, and when he finally noticed there was a weapon pointed at him, something flashed across his eyes that made Chris’s chest ache in the same way it would hurt for his sister whenever she’d looked scared. The officer stopped and his hands immediately went into the air, watching Chris warily, waiting for a bullet. “Don’t shoot,” he said, his voice undeniably young and tearing at Chris’s instincts. Jesus fucking christ, Officer Kennedy was a kid and he shouldn’t be in a hell like this. Now he understood what Lt. Branagh had meant when saying he could tell Officer Kennedy was a good man just from a glance. It wasn’t that Officer Kennedy was a good man to the eyes— he just looked like someone incapable of evil even if he tried. 

Chris lowered his gun. “I’m Chris Redfield,” he said, knowing they had to be all business to survive this. “Lieutenant Branagh sent me after you.”

Officer Kennedy’s eyes went wide and he said the last thing Chris had expected to hear. “Your sister is looking for you.”

“My sister?” Chris repeated. “You know her?”

Officer Kennedy lowered his arms and actually _fucking smiled,_ a genuine grin that looked honestly like the sun. “Claire,” Officer Kennedy said. “Claire Redfield. I came into town with her, she told me she’s trying to find her brother. I’m guessing Redfield isn’t that common of a name around here, right? I just saw her. She’s alive and doing well, all things considered.”

Chris— didn’t have words for the relief that washed through him when he felt that. While he was pissed as hell to know Claire was in Raccoon City, at least someone had seen her off in one piece. 

“I’m trying to find a way out so Claire and Lieutenant Branagh can leave the city,” Officer Kennedy explained. “Do you know this place well?”

Shit, the kid really did think he could save Branagh. That was going to be a rough confrontation whenever it came. “I’m S.T.A.R.S,” Chris told Leon. “Currently suspended, but that doesn’t really matter now, does it? What are you looking for? maybe I can help.”

“S.T.A.R.S.?” Officer Kennedy repeated with huge eyes. “Oh wow.” Then he grinned wider. “Consider me _star_ -struck.”

Jesus christ, he was a genuine child and he _should not be in a place like this._ “What do you know about the precinct?” 

“It’s all puzzles and mazes,” Officer Kennedy replied, so fucking trusting right off the bat. It wasn’t like he had any reason to not trust Chris, after all. He had no idea how deep into the realm of wrong this whole situation was. “I have two medallions already, the lion and the unicorn. But I need to get a charge blow up the gate to get to the woman that’s in the west storage room.”

Chris snorted a laugh. “You make it all sound pretty stupid when you say it like that.”

Officer Kennedy shrugged. “Seems pretty stupid to have the one emergency exit guarded by a puzzle, if you ask me.” And that was fair enough.

“My sister,” Chris said, needing to know more before he could focus on the task at hand. “Did she have a weapon?”

“And good aim,” Officer Kennedy replied. “She’s going to be fine, I know it. If we can get out of here, we’ll be able to find a way out of the city and get help. Claire will be okay.” He seemed to believe that with all of his being. The confidence was astounding— what was even more shocking, though, was the fact that this kid was facing down a precinct full of zombies on his first day on the job and his hands weren’t even shaking. Either Officer Kennedy was superhuman or he was somehow used to that special kind of adrenaline that came from fight or flight. Chris almost didn’t want to know. 

“Do you have a charge?” Chris asked, finally settling fully into his puzzle solving mindset now that he knew Claire was in a good place. 

“I have the electronic gadget,” Officer Kennedy said. “Used bolt cutters to get it. Now I need to find the battery.”

“S.T.A.R.S. office,” Chris replied. “Through the shower room.”

Officer Kennedy nodded firmly. “Got it. Where will you be?”

Chris raised a brow. “I’m coming with you, Officer,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

“I’m— fine. You should be with Lieutenant Branagh, making sure he’s okay.”

Chris narrowed his eyes and repeated, “I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

Officer Kennedy bit his lower lip, likely hesitant to leave Lt. Branagh unprotected now that they had the expendable resource. This kid would not be on his own in this hell if Chris had anything to say about it. “I’ve done this before,” Chris told Officer Kennedy gently. “Those murders in the Arklay mountains— it was this. Zombies. I’ve fought through this before and I know that you’re better off with a partner. Trust me.”

He watched Officer Kennedy visibly relax. “Okay,” the kid said. “I’ll follow your lead, uh— Redfield? I’m sorry, I know you’re my superior but I’m not sure of your rank.”

God dammit, this kid. “Just call me Chris,” he assured him. “Watch my back. I’m watching yours.”

Officer Kennedy smiled again, just a little. “I’m Leon S. Kennedy,” he told Chris. It was weird that he’d accentuated his middle initial like that. “Call me whatever you want. I’ll probably answer to any human voice at this rate.”

“I’m point,” Chris told him. “You stay behind me, got it? Don’t you dare put yourself in front of these things’ teeth.”

Officer Kennedy— _Leon_ — frowned. “I’ve been handling myself fine before you came along,” he argued. “I’m not helpless.”

Helpless, maybe not, but a damn child shouldn’t be the one facing down these monsters. “Stay behind me,” he said. “That’s an order.”

Leon huffed but nodded, pulling out a Heckler & Koch and aiming it at the ground. “On you,” he told Chris, those bright, innocent eyes hardening in the face of what they were about to pursue. “Most of the undead should be on the upper level. I’ve been trying to lure them all into one place if I’m not able to expend the ammo to take them out. So long as we keep quiet, we’ll be okay.”

Chris wanted to tell Leon this wasn’t his first rodeo, but he appreciated the warning regardless. He just put his fingers to his lips and then cut his hand in the air, telling Leon to follow him as he headed down the hall. What they needed was upstairs in his old office area, and since Branagh was still alive, they could get up through— “Please tell me you have a spade key,” Chris whispered as dread laced through him, though it was quickly stemmed when Leon pulled a out a blue key with the card suit spade on the top. Huh. “You really do know what you’re doing.”

Leon grinned brightly, absolutely preening at the praise. Chris hated Raccoon City for hiring Leon S. Kennedy— if they’d let him stick to the bigger cities that could really use the kid’s skillsets, then Leon never would have even set foot into such a terrible place. “We’ll head up as one,” he told Leon. “Through the west office and up the stairs and into the main hall. Is there anything there that I should know of?”

Leon shook his head. “All clear.”

Chris pushed into the west office and saw—

Banners and streamers and corpses. 

The words _WELCOME LEON_ were hung from the ceiling in blue and yellow circles with ribbons hanging down. There was a desk at the end of two rows of more desks with Leon’s name on the nameplate, a clean area that was untouched and ready to welcome the newest member of the RPD. And with the signs of intended celebration were the touches of carnage as well, uniformed bodies lifeless on the ground, heads decimated and unrecognizable. Chris chanced a glance back to Leon, who was studiously looking anywhere but him and the banner and desk. 

“Hell of a first day, huh?” Chris joked, knowing the question was in bad taste, but figuring Leon needed the distraction. His eyes were on the bodies of his fellow officers, men Chris was sure Leon had been excited to meet and grow alongside of. Here were Leon’s hopes and dreams of the future, lying in shambles and rotting flesh on the ground. Leon hadn’t signed up for this. The duality of the celebration and the undead was— jarring. 

Leon smiled shakily at his joke. “Guess I can confidently say it won’t get any worse, right?”

Chris wanted to burn Umbrella into fucking ash for putting this kid into this hell. Just like he was going to destroy them for making the world unsafe for his little sister and people like Rebecca, he was going to _ruin_ them for making people like Leon Kennedy fight his way through he apocalypse with forced smiles and silver linings. He hated seeing what the world had become thanks to one fucked up pharmaceutical company deciding to play god. Rebecca should be in a lab, Claire should be in school, and Leon should be on a regular beat shift. Instead, the dead were walking and Lt. Branagh was going to die. It just—

“We should get moving,” Leon told him, breaking through Chris’s thoughts. “They tend to wander if there’s not much sound, and I’ve been relying on them being drawn to the fire. If we can keep them on us, they won’t seek out Claire, either. Once we get below, we can find a way out and get Claire with us.”

“Does your entire plan revolve around my sister?”

“She’s the civilian,” Leon told Chris. “Protecting civilians is our job. Eyes up.”

That was the only warning Chris got before a bullet shot past his ear, embedding itself in the skull of an undead that was stumbling around the corner. Chris didn’t move as two more shots rang out, deafening him. The zombie dropped and Leon quickly rounded Chris to fire one more shot, grounding the thing for good. “Sorry,” Leon said. “That was the last one I had on this floor. All of the boarded windows should keep the numbers down.”

“You cleared this whole level?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” Leon affirmed. “I didn’t want them sneaking up on Lieutenant Branagh.”

Leon— was probably one of the best cops Chris had ever known. “First day,” Chris murmured to himself in quiet disbelief. “First fucking day.” Then he scowled. “Stay behind me, Officer.”

“Right, of course.” Leon retreated to stand behind Chris with a sheepish expression. He’d already made it clear that he was pretty set in respecting rank so Chris knew his orders would be followed. Chris hoped this applied in truly dangerous situations. He knew Leon had faced zombies, but he hadn’t seen how much worse it could get. “Sorry, Sir.”

Chris was happy he was the one facing forward so Leon wouldn’t see the way his expression fought with itself to stay neutral. “I told you to call me Chris.” He led Leon into the main hall, proud of the kid for remaining light on his feet and dead silent in a way even Chris couldn’t mimic. Top ten of his class indeed. The bright lights of the main hall were a breath of fresh air. Leon immediately strode past Chris, calling out to Lt. Branagh, his voice ringing urgently through the huge room. Chris followed and grimaced when he saw the other man slumped across the couch.

“There he is,” Leon said, crouching by the couch and putting his fingers to the man’s wrist. Chris flinched at the carelessness Leon had when touching the man who easily could have turned while they were gone. But Leon said, “Still alive,” and Chris felt foolish for worrying. “He’s not looking so good,” Leon said. “I have some medical spray, picked it up from the bathroom, a disinfectant. Do you think it could help him?”

Chris looked at the kid and felt such an ache for him in his chest. “I don’t think that’s what he needs,” Chris said, unable to tell Leon that there was no hope. “We’ll find something, I’m sure. We’ll send help.” It was a lie and Leon looked like he knew it. Still. “He’s lasted this long. He’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” Leon agreed. “Lead the way to S.T.A.R.S.”

Chris didn’t— He had a sudden idea. “You know, technically you’re not allowed in there.”

“What?”

“You’re too low on the foodchain, kid, I think you should stay down here while I handle it.”

Leon stared at Chris for a long moment. “This better be another bad joke.”

That was only half of it. “It’s dangerous,” Chris told Leon gently. “I’ve been through this before. I survived a mansion full of this and solved puzzles and got out alive. It’s safe down here. If you just wait, I’ll—”

“I’m sorry to cut you off, Sir, but I really need to say my piece,” Leon interrupted, standing and squaring his shoulders, looking to Chris without an ounce of fear in his eyes. “To be frank, you have no idea what I have been through in my life up until this point. You don’t know my abilities nor my experience. All you know is the paper reports and the test results and the name on my badge— that’s it. I’ve made it this far in one piece, and I’m not just talking about the zombie apocalypse.” Leon paused, letting Chris digest his words. Letting Chris draw conclusions that he hated to surmise.

“I know how I look,” Leon continued after a moment. “I know what people think when they see me. I know— I know, okay? I know you think I need to be protected, even with this gun in my hand. Fresh out of the academy doesn’t even begin to cover it. But underestimating me is not only insulting to me, it’s dangerous for you.” Leon looked to him with those bright, earnest eyes, and Chris felt like he was in some sort of Twilight Zone, facing down a rookie that was somehow braver than him. “You and I are in this together,” Leon said firmly. “If you spend all of your time worrying about me, you won’t be able to look out for yourself. Underestimating me puts you in danger, Sir. I’m with you— I’m your partner. Let me act like it and let me show you what I can do. I promise, Sir, I won’t let you down.”

Chris was stunned.

Leon waited for Chris to respond, then bit his lip again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Was I too forward?”

“Fucking.” Chris sighed heavily, looking down to where Lt. Branagh was still barely breathing. Lt. Branagh had held such confidence in Leon Kennedy even for only knowing the man a few bare moments. Chris had no reason to doubt Leon Kennedy either, and Leon was right. If Chris split his attention between this place and watching Leon, he’d get them both killed. “Alright,” he relented. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. Just— seriously, call me Chris.”

Leon looked sheepish again, young and boyish and a stark contrast to the brave and steadfast officer from a moment before. “Yessir,” he said, forgetting already. “You lead?”

“I lead,” Chris confirmed. “Keep a hand on the key in case we get separated.”

“If we split up, meet back here?”

Seemed good enough for him. “Eyes up, Kennedy,” he parroted from earlier. Leon startled and glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see something thirsting for his flesh. When he saw nothing, he looked back to Chris with a frown. Chris waved him off and checked out his Samurai Edge. “You got ammo?”

“Eighteen shots on Mathilda, three for the shotgun,” Leon replied. “If we get out of here, we may be able to stock up at Kendo’s across the street.”

“When we get out,” Chris corrected.

“When,” Leon agreed. “On you.”

Chris took the cue and gave Lt. Branagh one last glance for good health before heading up the grand staircase on the left side of the Goddess statue. The S.T.A.R.S. office was right through— “Little problem,” Chris said as he remembered. “Irons was renovating.”

“So?”

“So— S.T.A.R.S. is gonna be a little harder to reach than you think.”

Leon was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’m glad I have you, then,” he said, showcasing more of that tenacious positivity. “Otherwise I’d get lost in this place.”

“We’ll take the stairs up from the library,” Chris said. “From there, it’s into the west storage room. Then we get into the hall and get down the stairs and into another hall that gets us to the S.T.A.R.S. office.”

“And is there no other way?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Leon sighed. “Chief Irons seems like a fun guy.”

Chris grimaced. “Something like that. On me?”

Leon held up the key. “On you.”

Leon unlocked the door, looked to Chris to make sure he was ready, and then pulled the door open sharply to reveal whatever was inside. They were hit with the stench of flesh that was ever-present and the sound of sockets being pulled apart. Something was inside and chowing down and Chris did not want to find out what it was. Images of the crows flashed through his mind, their pointed, bloody beaks and the body of his friend, mangled with hundreds of stab wounds. Chris prayed he wouldn’t find anything beyond this door that he couldn’t handle. Leon was watching him expectantly, reminding Chris of the role he’d assigned himself. He gave Leon a sharp nod, jerked his head, and then stepped into the room, sweeping his sights across all the corners. 

It was just zombies. Two of them. Why was that something to be relieved about in Chris’s life? He held up two fingers over his shoulder for Leon to see before creeping further into the library, heading for the stairs that led up. Leon followed, his footsteps barely audible even to Chris. The two zombies in question were preoccupied with whoever hadn’t been fast enough to escape their clutches, a ruined carcass that the undead were bent over and devouring. Chris spared a moment of pity for the poor sonuvabitch before moving on. Leon was a heavy presence at his back, the barest heat along his spine. It was comforting to have someone who also had a gun on them. Rebecca had been a good companion, but she’d lost her S.T.A.R.S. issued firearm at the beginning of the mansion ordeal. This almost felt like Chris had a companion he could really rely on. 

“Up the stairs,” Chris whispered.

“Shouldn’t we take them out while they’re distracted?” Leon asked, keeping his voice low as well. “If Claire comes through…”

It was a good point, but Chris didn’t want to waste the ammo as long as these things weren’t focused on them. “Shouldn’t risk it,” he whispered. “Wouldn’t want to draw attention.”

“But if Lieutenant Branagh gets too loud…”

“We can’t worry about that right now.” They really couldn’t. Chris hadn’t been able to spot a lot of ammo through this place aside from what Lt. Branagh had given him. He wasn’t about to waste any bullets. He led Leon up the stairs, knowing that Leon was likely unhappy about leaving these zombies behind to be a real threat to them later. But Chris was hoping they would be out of here soon enough to make that concern null and void. “Just follow me, Officer, I know what I’m doing.”

There was a soft, unhappy noise behind him, but Leon didn’t argue. Well trained, Chris would give him that. They went up and out of the library quickly into the west storage room where the statue of the maiden stared them down. “Lt. Branagh told me there was a man who was planning to blow the cops up in here,” Leon told Chris. “He was able to tell me I’d need the bomb, but— it’s really upsetting.”

Chris frowned as Leon searched the room while Chris tried to see if there was any other way to get to the medallion. Leon seemed to think there was only the one way of getting inside, but Chris’s experience with puzzles had taught him there was always more than one way. 

“It’s scary to think how quickly people can break under pressure,” Leon continued as he checked all the shelves and corners. Chris had no idea what he was looking for. “All it takes is one bad moment for all bets to be off. Normal, unassuming people can suddenly become killers and the status quo shifts to the point where trust is a laughable concept. It’s scary to think of how easily humans can fall back into old instincts of selfish psychopathy. Oh hey!”

Chris looked up at Leon’s excited exclamation, jarred by the sudden shift in his tone. He saw Leon was holding up a hip pouch, standard RPD for extra storage on your person. “I found another,” Leon told Chris with a smile. “Do you want it?”

“You keep it,” Chris told Leon. When Leon looked ready to argue, probably something about ammo and weapons, Chris made shit up on the fly. “If you’re gonna be carrying the miscellaneous items that we need to get out of here, you should have the extra room. Plus, you’ve made it this far. Might as well make sure you can handle whatever comes next.”

Leon squinted at Chris like he could see right through his petty explanation, but kept the pouch regardless, wrapping it around one of his legs. Chris noticed that the dude had surprisingly strong thighs. He really looked like he’d put a lot of serious effort into being strong enough for the job. “I don’t think there’s any other way into this cell,” he begrudgingly admitted. “Looks like the bomb is our only option.”

“I figured,” Leon replied. “At least we know where the battery is.”

“Head into the next hall,” Chris ordered. “Make sure nothing is there.”

Leon nodded and quickly did as told, heading to the only door that let them out of here. Chris lingered a few moments, his eyes glancing over the room. It didn’t seem like Leon had missed anything, except this one stupid Raccoon bobblehead tucked away in a corner. Chris glared down at it, feeling like its empty eyes were mocking him, like one of the undead taking joy in its pointless existence. He didn’t bother denying the urge to take the thing by its oversized head and just dropping it onto the floor, letting it shatter. Fuck you, dumbass Raccoon. That thing had never helped anyone. 

He followed Leon out, saw Leon down at the end of the hall with wide eyes and his gun on the ceiling. Chris frowned, looked up and didn’t see anything, and thought the poor kid was freaking out. “You okay?” he asked stupidly. Leon’s eyes snapped to him and he shoved his fingers to his lips, begging Chris to be quiet. But there was nothing here and Chris couldn’t imagine any zombie being enough of a threat to have Leon acting like this. “It’s alright,” he promised Leon, holding up his hands with the intention to soothe. “There’s nothing here.”

Leon’s wide eyes locked on Chris and then got impossibly wider. He brought his gun down from the ceiling and aimed it at— at Chris.

In that moment, all of Chris’s faith in the man was thrown out the window. How could he have trusted someone just based on their face? Leon only looked like a good person, Chris should have learned long ago to never judge a book by its cover. Leon was going to fucking shoot him and it was Chris’s fault for thinking that he could trust someone just because they had the face of an angel and knew the name of his sister. Chris steeled his jaw, raised his hands higher in the air, opened his mouth to ask if Leon had planned to kill Chris up here or if he’d been planning to shoot Chris in the back for the poetic nature, and then— froze.

There was something next to his ear. Something he could see in his peripherals. Long and slimy like a wet snake, twisting in the air with audible quivers. Chris didn’t move a muscle and strained his eyes to the left. 

It looked like a fucking tongue. 

Leon was lowering his hand slowly, like he wanted Chris to get down on the ground. Chris didn’t know if that was the best idea. The tongue curled closer to his face, he could feel the heat emanating from the writhing muscle. There was a low growl from overhead, sounding almost like a dog, and Chris denied himself the urge to fucking run. Leon exaggerated the motion of his hand, pleading Chris to get down, to trust him. Chris wasn’t sure if he should, but—

There was a sudden howl behind him, like the bray of a demented donkey, and then Chris was thrown to the floor with a huge, horrifying thing straddling his waist, clawed hands in the air and swiping down to slice open his throat. There was a shout before Chris could react, and then the thing was blown away by three bullets smacking into the bulbous brain atop its head, strong hands pulling Chris to his feet. “We have to run!” Leon shouted at Chris urgently, being the only thing keeping him standing in that moment. Leon tried to pull Chris along, but they were both knocked down hard by a mass of flesh, something from above. Leon cried out in pain or fear as a tongue wrapped around Chris’s throat and flung him into the wall, back towards the western storage. The air was thrown from his lungs as his back collided with plaster and wood, stunned by the crack of his head into the wall. He heard Leon scream something, but he didn’t know what. Chris slumped to the floor and shook himself to get his bearings back just in time to look up and really see what was attacking him.

It was like a person had been skinned alive, the size of a grown man, their skull cracked open by a swelling brain. The thing had no eyes and huge claws protruding from each finger. It barred sharpened, canine teeth at Chris like the most wretched smile he had ever seen, advancing towards Chris slowly on all fours as a carnivore stalking its prey. It only took Chris a split second of swallowing down his fear before pulling out his Samurai Edge and firing three slugs into the thing’s face.

It wasn’t even phased. It launched itself at Chris, yowling like a banshee. Chris dropped onto his side and kicked away, firing twice more and feeling sick when it didn’t stop. Leon shouted his name again and Chris saw that the kid was at the other end of the hall, where Chris should be, shotgun up. He wasn’t firing, thank god, there was no way he’d be able to keep the spray from hitting Chris in such close quarters, but that still didn’t help Chris at all. The horrifying creature shrieked and Chris retreated, heading further away from the other end of the hall, away from Leon. 

“Keep going!” he ordered, firing repeatedly into the monster that couldn’t be slowed. “I’ll meet you there!” Chris was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to manage that, but at least Leon would be out of here. The creature lashed out again and Chris barely avoided the long reach of those claws. “Get the fuck out of here!” 

Chris heard the clatter of something being pushed across the ground and the solid thump of something against his foot. Chris rolled away at another swipe of those awful claws. The thing growled unhappily and launched itself up, impossibly crawling across the ceiling. Chris gaped up at it, wondering how the fuck Umbrella had managed to make something like _this_ and how the fuck he was going to —

He looked down to where there was a shotgun within reach, pushed across the floor by Leon, who was gone. Chris sent a silent thought of gratitude before gathering up the shotgun, checking that the shell was inside, finding Leon had loaded the thing for him, and then brought the muzzle up right as the fucking monster tried to drop down on him. Pulling the trigger and watching the thing get flung back felt better than sex. Listening to it scream in pain was even better. It writhed on the ground and scrambled uselessly, unable to lift itself up. Chris aimed the shotgun again after pulling the slide and ejecting the used shell. He fired another round, and the thing died screaming, thrashing about with its brains decimated before it went completely still on the ground. 

Chris slumped back on the floor and felt nothing but relief. “Well that fucking sucked,” he said to himself, needing to hear a human voice. “Holy shit.” 

He— had never seen anything like that. He remembered the red zombies that had been hanging around the graveyard, but he’d never see that monstrosity of skin and muscle. Leon had seemed pretty used to its existence, knowing silence was needed and wanting Chris to get low. Fuck, he should have listened to the kid. Leon had been looking out for him, trying to keep Chris from getting himself killed, and Chris had just jumped to the conclusion that Leon was out to kill him. What the actual fuck was wrong with Chris Redfield and how could he have thought that of someone like Leon S. Kennedy?

He heaved a sigh, frustrated with himself. Then Chris sat up, collected the shotgun, lamented his wasted bullets, and headed back down the hall. He prayed Leon had reached S.T.A.R.S. without a hitch, especially since he’d given Chris the shotgun. God, thank fuck Leon had thought to give Chris the shotgun. Chris forced himself to his feet and reminded himself that underestimating Leon was still just as stupid as it had been in the beginning. He rounded that disgusting body and left that accursed hallway, praying he wouldn’t see another one of those things. 

Back on track, Chris dropped down the rounded staircase, knowing where the offices were like the back of his hand, passed two zombie corpses and praised Leon’s efficiency. He really wished he’d had Leon at his side back in the Spencer Mansion. Things would have been easier, even if neither he nor Leon knew how to play the piano.

Chris stared at the doors into the S.T.A.R.S. office and fought down a second wave of bitter nostalgia. He remembered all of the people he’d lost, the friends that had died, the people who had turned on him. Fucking Wesker, standing tall and confident, instilling Chris with a false sense of security, because while Wesker was cold, he was strong, and Chris shouldn’t have had to fear his own leader. Chris was faced with everything he no longer had and his only true allies were worlds away. God, was Jill still in Raccoon City? Thank god Barry’s family had left. Rebecca was safe with David, Claire was handling herself, Chris— Chris was stuck in hell again. For a moment, he wanted to give up.

There was clatter behind the door, then the sound of Leon’s voice, the kid whispering to himself. 

And that was why Chris wasn’t going to give up— Leon didn’t deserve any of this and Chris was going to make sure Leon survived this, even if it killed Chris. Chris pushed open the door and fought down the emotions as his eyes landed on Jill’s desk first and couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. He forced his gaze away and tried to find Leon. His gaze dragged over his own jacket and he ignored the way his chest twisted. 

He found Leon in Wesker’s office and hated the image of the kid standing in the office of a villain. 

“You’re okay! I found it.” Leon was holding up the battery for Chris to see, bright and excited and looking for some sort of validation from a superior, while Chris just felt like throwing up. Leon’s expression fell when he saw whatever was on Chris’s face and he quickly dropped his arms to his side. “Are you okay?” Leon asked, so fucking earnest that it ached. “I’m sorry. Should I leave? This is your space.”

Chris felt like shit for making Leon feel guilty. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just, some bad shit.”

“Bad?” Leon repeated, brow furrowing adorably. “Wasn’t this… I mean, I don’t want to assume, but this was where you worked, right? Your superior was in here. Albert Wesker. He died, didn’t he?” Leon’s eyes went wide with some misguided realization. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think— I give my condolences, I’m sure he was a good man.”

Chris sneered. “Albert Wesker was anything but a good man,” he spat. “Don’t you dare give that man an ounce of your pity. Better off dead, if you ask me.”

Leon seemed thrown by the vehemence of Chris’s tone, but didn’t argue. Chris liked the amount of tact Leon had, knowing when to speak and when to stay silent. It seemed like an ingrained characteristic, Leon only ever speaking up when he felt strongly about something, but also prone to small bursts of emotion, passion and courage coming together into one perfect blend. The amount of respect Chris was starting to gain for someone he barely knew was startling in its own way. 

“I’m sorry for that, then,” Leon finally said. “Whatever he did to deserve how you feel. I’m sorry he did that to you.”

God in heaven, was Leon S. Kennedy even real?

“I can’t tell you a lot,” Chris said, feeling like Leon deserved to know a little. “But just know that this place, this city? It’s not what you thought it was. You don’t know Raccoon City at all.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Leon hedged, looking a little nervous to be contradicting Chris. “I spent my summers in Raccoon City with my grandparents. I know it pretty well, in the way a kid knows their favorite summer camp. I’m not, like, a citizen, but I can’t really get lost and I know some faces. But maybe you’re right.” Leon looked down at the battery in his hands with a grimace. “I don’t know Raccoon City at all. Not like you do. You know better than me, I shouldn’t argue. I don’t— I don’t really belong here. Not like you do. I— don’t belong.”

Chris hadn’t meant that _at all._ “Albert Wesker betrayed me and my team,” Chris told Leon, needing to help the poor kid understand that Chris hadn’t at all meant to demean him like that. Whatever memories and feelings Leon had for this condemned place were valid and real and Chris hadn’t meant to make him feel like he was lesser for not being a citizen. “You can know the city, but even I didn’t know the true depth of it until a few months ago. There’s— a lot of bad shit going on under the wraps. Things most people don’t know even if they’ve lived here their whole lives. I didn’t meant to—”

He hadn’t meant to what? Make Leon feel like he didn’t belong? Why did Leon want to belong at all? Wouldn’t he feel more kindred with New York City, the place he’d grown up? Why would he rather associate himself with Raccoon City, and be so upset when told that he couldn’t, even if accidentally? 

“We were betrayed,” Chris said firmly. “Deceived. All of us. This has nothing to do with anyone belonging anywhere. We were all lied to. Albert Wesker threatened the family of one of my good friends and tried to turn us all against each other. He tried togged us all killed. He was a horrible fucking person and I don’t like the idea of being in his office, that’s all.”

“Deceived?” Leon echoed with a knit brow. “What— what the hell is going on? S-sir.”

“I don’t know if I can tell you,” Chris replied with an ache to the truth. “I’m hoping I can just get you and my sister out of here and then disappear again without you ever being under anyone’s radar. For now, I need you to understand that I’m only doing my best to keep everyone I can safe, okay? If I give away too many secrets, if you know too much, you become a target. Keeping you safe— that’s my priority.” A new one, but ever-present since the moment he’d laid eyes on Leon S. Kennedy, the kid who stared down monsters with unwavering resolve and whose hands didn’t shake in the face of death. The kid that Chris was damn near sure would outlive him. “Lt. Branagh told me to get you out of here alive,” Chris said. “And by god, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Leon scowled. “Respectably, Sir, that’s a stupid objective and I disagree.”

Chris was _really_ starting to like this kid. 

“We’re both trained,” Leon said. “We’re both officers of the law. We’re both servants of the people and we both took an oath. I am not your priority— Claire is. Claire and anyone else that we come across. But that also means taking down the people who did this. And if you know something about what’s going on, then not telling me and not allowing me to help is an obstruction of justice.”

“Hardly,” Chris replied, a little blown away by just how deep Leon was willing to dive into this horror show. “There’s no investigation and no one left to investigate. Raccoon City is one giant concrete coffin. All that’s left is getting out.”

“But what if the people responsible got away?”

“Look around,” Chris prompted gently. “No one’s escaping from this.”

“Then how can you expect to save anyone?”

Leon— had a good point. A point Chris couldn’t argue. In that moment, he felt that lingering urge to give up again, standing in Wesker’s office and being reminded of just how deep the conspiracy went and how many powerful people were on Umbrella’s payroll. It all seemed so hopeless, a fool’s errand, wasted effort and wasted attempts to save people that were already dead and gone. Leon was looking to bring the bad guy to justice while Chris— Chris just wanted his sister and this kid safe. That was the difference between them. Chris hadn’t come to Raccoon City for revenge; he’d come to save the person he cared about. Now there was more than one name on that list and even with that simple addition, he was drowning.

“I have to try,” he told Leon, unable to say anything but the honest truth. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I have to try. I have no other choice. I just— I have to try.”

Leon’s expression shuttered and he looked like he understood. He bit his lip, cast his eyes away, then nodded. “I’ll help,” he told Chris. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Leon S. Kennedy didn’t have a god damn thing to be sorry for. Chris knew he was the one being the coward, refusing to look deeper, refusing to face the facts, and he knew that Leon was the better of them both. So, “If we find out there’s more going on, we’ll look,” he told Leon. “But as of now, it’s like you said. We get Claire and Lieutenant Branagh out and that’s it. Deal?”

Leon seemed relieved at the compromise. “Deal,” he echoed. “And on that note, don’t you dare try to convince me I can’t do this, okay? I promise, Sir, I can handle anything.”

He looked— like he was begging Chris not to leave him behind. This kid was going to be the death of him. Chris grimaced, then sighed, and then nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “All of my worries? Stupid shit like that? Gone.” 

Leon grinned, a shaky little thing that was tinged with relief. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I won’t let you down.”

He’d said that twice now. Chris wanted to believe him.

“We have the battery,” Chris said, looking to the thing still clutched in Leon’s hand. “Let’s get that last medallion and get everyone out of here. Between the two of us, I know we can do it.” Leon smiled so brightly at Chris’s confidence in him that it almost seemed like Leon had never been given a kind word in his life. As Leon reached into one of his pouches and pulled out an electronic panel to fit the battery into, rambling intelligently about bombs and blast radius and sound drawing the attention of unsavory monsters, Chris swore to himself that if it came down to it, if it was ever a choice between his life and Leon’s, Leon would come out on top. He wasn’t going to let Umbrella claim someone so truly and genuinely innocent. 

Over Chris’s dead fucking body.

“Let’s move out,” he told Leon, interrupting him but knowing it had to be done. Chris wanted out of Wesker’s office ten minutes ago. “We’ve got work to do.”

Leon looked excited while Chris only felt dread. At least one of them thought they had a chance. Maybe that was Leon’s ignorance, which was only Chris’s fault, in the end. But at least Leon thought they had a chance. 

As they left the S.T.A.R.S.’s office, laden with an explosive and Chris insisted to be point again, he reminded himself that getting out was always the easiest part when it came to Umbrella— it would be surviving what was waiting for them outside that would be the real test.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is way too fucking easy to write and i love it
> 
> Leon's POV has me *weak* y'all but i hope it works for you like idk this is my first time writing Leon S Kennedy and it's not even current, sarcastic, griping Leon, it's sweet and innocent and babu Leon that i must protecc also Chris's inner monologues no longer apply so we don't see that Chris is also like _protecc_ we just see an emotionally constipated man and Leon's like ????uwu????
> 
> also i don't know if any of y'all noticed when you played the game but Ada was *not* smart nor safe when taking that shot at the dog like wtf she could have so easily hit Leon especially with how much they were both moving like _she could have hit him_ i was so upset when she did that there were too many variables Leon could have _died_

Chris Redfield was— something else.

That was all Leon S. Kennedy could really think about as he lined up the symbols to unlock the final medallion, effectively solving the puzzle and getting them the hell out of this fun house massacre of a police station. As Leon worked, making sure everything matched up and that the mechanisms within made the satisfying clink of gears falling into place, his eyes were continuously drawn away from his task at hand to the taller man that was standing with his back to Leon, eyes trained on the hole they’d blown in the cell bars. There was something in here with them, loud and hungry, and Leon was pretty sure it was another of those Lickers that he and Chris had managed to fight off before.

Leon was honestly glad he’d thought to kick Chris the shotgun. He’d already learned that regular slugs into those things hardly phased them, and while the firepower of the shotgun had been a comforting addition to his arsenal, it wasn’t very safe to use when in tight spaces with an ally. Leon had wanted nothing more than to blow those things away, especially when the Licker had pinned Chris and tried to take out his throat, but the shot would have been too wide and he knew he would have taken out Chris along with the target itself. He’d hated leaving the other man to the fight alone, but Leon had known it was smart for at least one of them to vacate the premises to allow the use of the effective shotgun. Leon was just grateful Chris really had been able to handle it. 

And while it was comforting to have someone who knew this place and what they were doing, Leon still couldn’t fight the feeling that Chris was hiding something. Not just the conspiracies he’d hinted at back in S.T.A.R.S.. Leon appreciated the thoughtfulness of trying to keep him from knowing too much, but he was also pretty certain _not_ knowing what exactly was going on could very well be the death of him. And even with that, it always seemed like Chris was only letting half of the words he wanted to say come to the surface. He was hiding _something_ , something beyond what Leon already knew about. Leon could feel it in his bones, those instincts he’d developed gradually throughout the course of his life. He was pretty adept at reading people and Chris was an open book, even if Leon wasn’t sure of the language being used just yet. That being said, while Leon was grateful to have him, and even more grateful to know that he’d be able to help Claire in her quest for her brother, he still wished he could have a little more faith beyond Chris’s aim.

On that note, Chris really did have good aim. Leon wondered if he’d been in special forces within the police his whole life or if he’d had experience in other areas. He was curious about Chris, undeniably curious. Claire had been willing to face down a literal zombie apocalypse just on the off chance of finding her brother in the midst of it, and while Leon didn’t exactly have a good view of family, he knew that that kind of dedication was still above and beyond for siblings. Or was it? Leon really didn’t know. He just couldn’t think of anyone that would be willing to face this for him and the idea that Chris and Claire shared such devotion made Leon almost jealous. It also made him really want to find out more about Chris— what was so special about this man that made him worth such a dangerous sacrifice?

Of course, that was Leon’s brain trying to distract him from the hell that he was facing. It was a bad habit he had, a maladaptive coping mechanism that he’d read about in a book. _Don’t think about it_ had been his personal mantra for so long, a simple phrase he’d lived by down to his own thready heartbeat in the darkest of times. Don’t think about the things that made him afraid, don’t think about the voices that made him shake, don’t think about the bruises. But now he was in this new situation where he couldn’t _not_ think about it. Refusing to think would get him killed, would get _Chris_ killed. It was why Leon was grateful to have Chris, regardless of the added mystery and risk. Chris was making Leon think about it with constant orders and calls and plans of action. Chris was making him face this. It was good. Leon was sure that it was good.

There was a snarl from the room and Leon pulled the medallion quietly from the woman’s belt, tucking it away in one of the pouches that had room for it. He had all three medallions on his person, too paranoid to leave them lying around in the station, even if he could use the extra space and the lessened weight. Leon turned to Chris, ready to whisper that he had what they needed and they could move on, when he saw the taller man was looking to him with urgent eyes, a finger to his lips. And unlike how Chris had been back in the hallway, Leon respected the order. He nodded and crouched low, bringing out Mathilda, letting her weight in his hand comfort her. Even if he was going to face an unspeakable monster, she would be with him through it all. 

Chris began to creep into the storage area, watching the corners with a level of training that solidified Leon’s suspicions that Chris was more than just a cop. Military, definitely, though Leon wasn’t sure which branch. The man seemed buff enough to b a marine, but he had deft fingers and quick enough reaction times to be some sort of pilot or operator. Army or Air Force, then, maybe Airborne Rangers? Leon wasn’t sure, but he was doing that thing again where his mind was trying to put him in a different world to cope. Leon couldn’t afford to lose focus. He forced himself back into the present and followed Chris, staying behind so he wouldn’t be in the way of the shotgun Chris was holding at the ready if he needed to use it. Hopefully it was just another zombie that had been drawn by the sound of the explosion— hopefully. 

Chris put an arm back, stopping Leon in his tracks. They both held perfectly still, listening. There was nothing at first, but then— the sound of sharp edges scraping on wooden beams. Claws.

Leon looked up and saw the Licker before Chris did, above their heads and investigating, tasting the air with its tongue. Leon tapped at Chris’s shoulder, then pointed up. He watched the other man visibly startle. Chris had said he’d seen some shit back in the Arklay mountains, but maybe this was new? He’d seemed rather shocked by the Licker back in the hall. Leon felt sorry for him, wished he wouldn’t have to have new nightmare fuel. He wondered how Chris slept at night with what he’d seen and if he could give Leon some tips, because Leon knew that if he ever made it out of here, he would—

Fucking focus, Leon S. Kennedy, he was going to get himself killed.

He had an idea— these things were blind, blinder than bats, and operating by sound alone. This room was full of corners and objects, if they could just make a diversion and then get out and lock the door behind them, they’d keep this thing from every coming back to haunt them. But Leon had no way of conveying this plan to Chris and he knew that Chris still didn’t plan on giving Leon his full cooperation. Leon just hoped that once he set his plan into motion, he’d be able to pull Chris along with enough force to keep them from stalling too long and getting their guts spilled on the floor. 

Leon took in a deep, quiet breath, and then reached over to one of the piles of random nothings that were stacked up in this room. He got himself a book— read the title, saw it was something about Criminal Law— and stood carefully, watching the Licker with every inch he gained. He saw Chris making some flail with his hand, likely trying to prompt Leon into getting back down, but Leon knew they had one shot left in that shotgun along with four shells they’d found in Captain Wesker’s office and that they would need to hold onto whatever ammo they still had. He didn’t bother waiting for Chris to catch on. He looked at the furthest corner from the door they needed to escape through and flung the book as hard as he could, watching it collide with a stack of junk and sending the whole pile toppling over. 

As the Licker shrieked and launched itself at the diversion, Leon grabbed Chris by his broad bicep and yanked him to his feet, sprinting for the door. He slammed his shoulder into the door, flinging it open, and threw Chris outside before him before falling out of the room himself and slamming himself back into the door, holding it shut. Leon only had a moment of relief before something huge and heavy slammed into the door, nearly throwing him to the ground. The Licker inside yowled unhappy and Leon braced his feet, trying to keep the door shut. 

“Out of the way!”

Leon barely had time to move before Chris was pushing down a bookcase in front of the door, then lifting an old desk over his head and putting that atop the bookcase, shutting the Licker inside for hopefully forever. Leon breathed easy and grinned up at Chris, adrenaline fading fast in the face of this temporary victory. But Chris was glaring at him and that—

“Well, it’s not like we can afford to shoot our way out of everything,” Leon reasoned, wishing Chris would just stop thinking of him as some dumb kid. So many times in Leon’s life had he been pushed aside and overlooked just because he resembled some sort of weak cherub, more like a princess locked away in a tower than a prince ready to face down a dragon. Leon wished he could show Chris all of his test results from back at the academy, his aptitude and long range shooting average. Just _something_ that would make Chris realize he wasn’t reckless and stupid— he was just doing his best. Still. “Sorry,” he told Chris, knowing it was best to keep his head low and never _ever_ question authority. Chris wasn’t his father or mother, but—

Stop it, Leon. 

“Fuck,” Chris bit out. “I—” The man trailed off and Leon bit his lip, almost expecting to be shouted at, and then was surprised when Chris continued, saying, “I wish I had thought to see what call signs you know. It’d be useful to know your plan before it happens.” Chris shook his head. “Good work, Officer.”

Leon struggled to keep down the pleasure he felt at Chris’s praise. His commanding officers had always said that Leon relied too heavily on positive reinforcement, and it was something he was trying to get a leash on. He couldn’t afford to lose focus just because someone said something nice about him or something he’d done. Stupid Leon, he needed to get his shit together. 

“We should get back to Lieutenant Branagh,” Leon said. “If he’s able to walk, we should consider bringing him with us.”

There it was again— that flicker of something of Chris’s face that said he was thinking of something he’d never bring to light. Leon could read people, he could read them so fucking well, and he knew Chris was keeping something from Leon to protect him, so many things. Leon had a hunch what this one was.

“He’s not dead until his heart stops beating,” Leon told Chris stubbornly. “If we can get him out, then he has a chance.” Chris didn’t look like he agreed at all. Leon really wasn’t up for pessimism right now. “At least fucking pretend please?”

Chris winced. Leon immediately wanted to apologize for talking back, but Chris gave him a nod. “Let’s get moving,” he said. “On me?”

Leon’s shoulders slumped with relief and he smiled as he nodded, holding Mathilda at the ready again. “On you.”

At least it was easy to follow Chris. At least it wasn’t hard to feel some sort of safe with the man leading the way, even if Leon hated to put the pressure on someone else. But Chris had insisted and Leon— Leon had never really had someone offer to take the lead before either. It was almost— okay.

“Once we get to Branagh,” Chris whispered as they descended down into the library, having made their way back through the precinct without much of a hitch. Leon was secretly really happy he’d been so efficient in taking out every zombie he’d come across before Chris had shown up. It was making things a lot easier. “We’ll check in with him, make sure he’s still breathing, and then follow the secret passage. We’re going to scope it out first. We don’t wanna drag Branagh into the unknown when he’s— injured.”

Leon really appreciated Chris talking about Lt. Branagh like he wasn’t a dead man walking. Leon was sure there was still _something_ they could do— there had to be. He refused to give up. “On you,” he told Chris softly, letting the words mean more than their simple definitions. Chris seemed to understand, moving forward again, relying on Leon to watch his back and Leon had every intention to rise to the trust he’d been given. He kept his gaze alert, sweeping all corners, making sure nothing would come up on Chris without him knowing. Leon remembered that fear he’d felt when he’d seen that zombie over Chris’s shoulder, that single moment where if a moment of indecisiveness had overcome him, Chris could have died. Leon wasn’t about to make a mistake that could cost the man his life. He needed to find his sister and Leon would die to make it happen.

They made it back into the main hall and—

Thank fucking god, Lt. Branagh was still alive. The cinch in his chest loosened and Leon uselessly reminded himself not to get so attached to people in an apocalypse. “Right where we left him,” he said aloud to Chris, unable to keep himself from checking Lt. Branagh’s weak, but-present pulse. The man was lying across the couch just as they’d last seen him, hopefully resting and not in the throes of a death rattle. “We should leave him a note,” he said. “In case he wakes up.”

When he looked to Chris, Leon saw the other man wearing an expression he’d only ever seen once before in his life. The look on Chris’s face had Leon’s throat closing. He quickly cleared it and nodded. “We’ll be back,” he said, denying himself the effort of what he’d wanted. “Why leave a note when we can just tell him ourselves?”

“Sure,” Chris replied with a tight smile.

Leon reached into the pouch and pulled out the three medallions, holding them towards Chris. “Here,” he said. “Why don’t you have the honors?”

Chris made a face, but took the medallions regardless, crossing the main hall for the goddess contraption. Leon took that moment of solitude to look over Lt. Branagh, checking for any signs of his health worsening, anything that could give Leon a clue as to how long he had left to save the man. He looked worse, that was easy to tell, with less color to his skin and darker blood, possibly arterial, though Leon couldn’t imagine how since his wound wasn’t near any major arteries. Still, if Lt. Branagh was still breathing, then Leon wasn’t going to give up on him. He glanced to the computer that was still on by Lt. Branagh’s head and saw that the video feeds still hadn’t changed. The station was relatively empty, or at least, Leon didn’t see anyone or anything new. Lt. Branagh would be safe, so long as he was quiet.

There was the grind of stone and metal back where Chris had gone, and Leon looked up to see the stand of the goddess statue folding itself back and away, revealing an artful iron gate and darkness beyond. It didn’t look all that inviting, but they didn’t have much of a choice. Chris looked back at Leon over his shoulder. “It goes underground. Let’s get moving,” Chris said. Then he looked to where Lt. Branagh was resting, and— 

Lt. Branagh was awake and looking at Leon with glassy, white eyes. Leon startled away, knowing exactly what those eyes meant, flinching when the Lt. even growled and snapped forward. Leon heard the sound of Chris drawing his gun, but Leon held out a hand and called out, “Marvin!” hoping to bring him out of this, bring him back. Lt. Branagh’s eyes cleared and he slumped back, then slumped forward, panting. 

Leon—

Was Marvin Branagh going to turn?

“We need to get you to a hospital right now,” Leon told Lt. Branagh.

Lt. Branagh blinked rapidly, shaking his head, shaking his whole body like he was trying to wake up. “No, no… I…” Lt. Branagh looked at Leon, saw _something_ , and then turned away. “Save yourself.”

Leon frowned and reached out, trying to get ahold of the other man. “C’mon,” he pleaded, refusing to give up. “I’ve got you—”

 _”No!”_ Lt. Branagh’s shout and sudden movement out of Leon’s grip had Leon flinching back again, relating the voice and the anger behind it to someone he’d rather forget. Leon glanced to where Chris was standing by the gate, the man’s expression grim as he watched Leon nearly begin to beg. Why wasn’t Chris helping him? Surely he didn’t want to see another one of his friends die. 

Leon didn’t move away, not completely. He was sure he could convince with the man. “Look, we can still make it out of here together,” he began carefully, praying Lt. Branagh would see reason. There was no reason to leave a living man behind, not when they had a chance of escape. “If you just gimme—”

Lt. Branagh whipped around with a gun up and pointed at Leon’s chest. Chris let out this noise of panic and started forward, but Leon held a hand out to keep the man from interfering. Even facing down the muzzle and the face of a man who was afraid to die but even more afraid to become a monster, Leon could tell by the look in his eyes that Lt. Marvin Branagh would not be capable of shooting him. Leon knew what a person looked like when they wanted to hurt him, when they wanted him to suffer. Lt. Branagh wasn’t any of that— he was just scared.

“It’s too late,” Lt. Branagh grit out. Leon took a step away, finally understanding that he wasn’t going to be able to save the Lieutenant because he didn’t want to be saved. “I tried, Leon,” Lt. Branagh said, tone strangled. “But I couldn’t stop it. We can’t let this thing spread.”

If spreading the disease was the heart of the matter, then Lt. Branagh really should be trying put Leon down. If Lt. Branagh had it, then so did he, and so did Claire, and so did Chris. But Leon didn’t argue, couldn’t get anything out past the lump in his throat. 

“It’s on you now,” Lt. Branagh told him, sealing Leon’s fate, Leon’s dedication to a future corpse or worse. “Just go…”

Leon hated everything, and most of all, he hated himself. “I understand,” he told Lt. Branagh before turning away and heading for the gate. He listened to Lt. Branagh groan in pain, gasp in agony, but didn’t turn, letting the dying man keep his dignity. Leon walked past Chris without looking at him, not wanting the stronger, better man to see the emotions trying to overcome him. Leon’s failure was beating him down, all those little regrets piling up. If he’d opened that door quicker, that poor officer wouldn’t have been torn in two. If he’d made it into town sooner, Lt. Branagh wouldn’t have been attacked. If he’d just come to work on the first day like he was supposed to, maybe he could have actually saved some of the undead he’d been forced to put down. 

As Leon descended the steps with Chris behind him, Leon hated himself and everything he hadn’t been able to do.

There was a moment of silence in the darkness of the underground. Then Chris said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

And that—

“Yessir,” Leon replied, feeling a little like a zombie himself. Chris knew better didn’t he? Leon knew the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. teams had been nearly wiped out up in the Arklay Mountains, maybe Chris really did know better and knew that Leon was wrong to blame himself. After all, what could Leon have done but just been more canon fodder, another person to be infected? Maybe Leon couldn’t have done anything. Maybe he was already doing the best he possibly could. Leon shuddered out a breath and tightened his hands into fists before nodding to himself. Whether or not he should have done more didn’t matter— he was doing everything he could. 

_It’s on you now._

“I won’t let you down, Marvin,” Leon promised to the darkness. 

He pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on, looking down the steps into what was a circular room with a desk and a weird miniature of the police station on it. Leon dropped down the final step and motion-sensor lights flickered on overhead, bathing the room in a warm, inviting glow.

“Huh,” Chris said from beside him. “You know, I’ve been at RPD with S.T.A.R.S. for two freaking years and I’ve never known this place existed.”

“Looks nice,” Leon commented, grateful Chris was keeping up a strong facade of nonchalance in the face of the man they’d left behind. “You sure this wasn’t some super secret break room for Chief Irons?”

“If Irons knew about this place, I’d be wishing for a blacklight more than anything.”

Leon made a face at the joke. Was it a joke? He prayed it was a joke. He’d heard a thing or two about Chief Irons, his will and stubbornness and controlling nature and how he’d even intended to run for mayor of Raccoon City. Leon had watched his press conferences concerning the Arklay cannibal murders. The man had seemed like a capable person, but he had a gaze that made Leon fall into old instincts of fight or flight, the lingering level of a threat beneath those watery eyes. And now Chris was joking about blacklights? Leon didn’t wish the man dead, but he really hoped they didn’t run into him. He _prayed_ Claire didn’t even go near Chief Irons, wherever and whatever state he may be in.

“This seems like a safe place,” Chris hedged, sounding unsure even with such a definitive statement. 

Leon moved past him, deeper into the room, and let out a small noise of happiness when he found shotgun shells on the desk next to the miniature. He tossed them to Chris, who caught the box of shells with a frown. “I want you taking the shotgun back,” Chris said. 

“And I want you to not treat me like a child. Sir.”

Chris rolled his eyes and Leon almost wanted to laugh, feeling a little like they were teasing each other. “It’s not that,” Chris said. “It’s more like— finders keepers. And I already got to use it on that fucking skinned freak up there—”

“Lickers.”

“Lickers?”

Leon nodded. “I read a note about them. They’re called Lickers.”

Chris looked vaguely disgusted. “Lickers,” he repeated slowly. “I got to use it on the… Licker. I just feel like it’s your turn to have some fun.”

Leon wanted to argue, but Chris was already holding out the shotgun with an expectant expression, and Leon guessed it was fair enough. “We’ll trade back once I kill something big of my own,” he told Chris as he took the shotgun and then the shells. At least he had the room for everything— his legs were feeling light without the medallions dragging him down. “Sharing is caring, right?”

Chris’s face did this thing where he pursed his lips and his eye twitched. Leon winced, worried he pissed the man off. “Sorry, Sir.”

“We need to keep moving.”

He was right, Leon was being a distraction again. It was so hard to remember to be afraid when he had Chris with him. “On you,” Leon said quietly, glancing over the room once more. There didn’t seem to be anything else aside from that desk that looked like it had been occupied recently. Leon wondered who had been down here before them and why they needed such an extensive process just to reach a secret room. The excuse of this place having once been an art museum didn’t cover the half of the puzzles Leon had come across. 

“There’s an elevator.”

Chris’s voice broke through Leon’s musings, bringing him back to the present again. Even if Chris’s presence gave Leon a false sense of security, at least Chris was able to keep him on track. He followed Chris into the elevator. The small box was dark oak and expensive, reminding Leon of the fancy hotels he’d seen in New York that still had bell hoppers working the lift. As the elevator lurched and began to descend after Chris punched the only button they had to choose from, Leon decided it was worth it to ask— “Do you know who used that office? Really?”

Chris frowned, then shook his head. “No clue if I’m being honest. My best bet is Albert Wesker or Chief Irons. Irons has an affinity for weird, eclectic shit like this because he considers himself a man who can appreciate the arts with a higher intelligence than others. Wesker seems like the kind of guy to have countless secrets.”

Leon bit his lip. “Albert Wesker,” he said slowly. “Your captain. What did— what happened?”

There was a pause, then Chris heaved a sigh, leaning back against the wall of the slowly moving elevator. “It was supposed to be a simple scope of the Arklay Mountains to find where the murders happened,” he began, choosing his words carefully, obviously still trying to hide things from Leon. He didn’t mind. He was just happy Chris was willing to tell him at all. “Bravo team went in first, as planned, via helicopter, but we lost their transmission pretty early on into their flight. Wesker sent us and Alpha out and we found the crash sight, but no bodies.”

“The helicopter went down?” Leon asked, a little sorry for interrupting but needing to know more. When Chris nodded, Leon had to press. “How? I’ve read about S.T.A.R.S., the pilots are top notch.”

Chris smiled bitterly. “As a co-pilot, I can tell you that it takes more than just a little faulty equipment to bring one of us to the ground. Turned out to be some sort of engine failure.”

And that— “You’re a co-pilot?” Leon quickly ran this through what he knew and reached his final conclusion. “Air Force, right?”

Chris seemed surprised. “How’d you know?”

“Just made sense,” Leon reasoned with a shrug. “Your training is a little more severe than Law Enforcement, but not like the Marines. Your reflexes are sharp and your vision is perfect, right? No contact lens that I can see. Your weapons training seems pretty extensive since you’re able to use both your Samurai Edge and the shotgun with ease.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a shotgun,” Chris pointed out.

“No, but it does take someone with above average intelligence and sharp reasoning skills to figure out why you can’t fire a shotgun in a hallway with another person inside, regardless of what you’re trying to fight.” Leon shrugged again. “Plus, your haircut. It’s more military than Law Enforcement. Officers will have your haircut, but it usually needs work to be maintained and they don’t learn the cut themselves, they go to a barber. But you said you’re suspended. You’ve been suspended for a while. And you’re still keeping the cut. That means the cut is more of a habit than a personal preference. So, military. It just came down to the branch, and someone with your reflexes would be better fit for Air Force or Navy than Army or Marines. I was thinking maybe Airborne Ranger for a bit, but I wasn’t sure. You telling me you’re a co-pilot, though— well, that’s Air Force, isn’t it?”

Chris seemed stunned. Leon ducked his head. “Sorry if I crossed some boundaries, Sir,” he said. 

Chris was quiet. Then, “Five years in the Air Force,” he told Leon. “I flew helicopters and planes, met my other good friend Barry Burton in the service.” Leon felt his chest lighten when he realized he wasn’t in trouble. He looked up at Chris, eager for more information. “I had this problem called ‘strong convictions and stern moral compass,’ so my superiors and I didn’t always get along. I resigned and was recruited for S.T.A.R.S. thanks to Barry.” Chris smiled a bit again, the bitterness gone and replaced with something like fondness, like he was remembering something good. “Then I ended up here and, lo and behold, my superiors fucked me over again.”

Leon wanted to ask for more about the Arklay incident, a little guilty for having changed the subject, but the elevator finally stopped and the doors swung open to reveal a pitch darkness that made Leon’s guts twist. Chris went on high alert, pistol up, light shining. “On me,” he ordered in a low whisper of a growl as he carefully exited the elevator, looking for any threat. Leon followed him, matching his urgent paranoia. They were in a tall, concrete room with steps winding down, only one exist that Leon could see with light emanating from the hall it led to.

Leon— could hear something.

Scratching, stumbling, moaning, crying, something was down here with them and it sounded like it was suffering. It also sounded like it was fucking heavy. Chris got to the bottom of the steps and headed for the hall. They were surrounded by pumps and pipes on both sides, and something above their heads clambered away, grunting loudly. “What the fuck?” Leon shouted before he could think better of it, the sounds retreating and leaving Leon confused. Chris glared at him from over his shoulder and Leon knew they were supposed to keep quiet, but seriously— “What the fuck was that?” Leon hissed, lowering his voice. “Do you know what that was?” Chris glared harder and Leon shut up.

The hall they were following led into what looked like a huge machinery room below them. They were walking across grated ramp ways above the machinery that was spaced out below like a maze. Leon leaned over the railing for a closer look and saw nothing of whatever lumbering monster they’d heard. “Keep moving,” Chris ordered with his gun still up and at the ready. He headed to the right down the ramp towards what looked like an office that had an overturned metal bookshelf blocking the way. “Help me with this,” Chris said, tucking his gun away to get a good hold on the shelf and lift. Leon joined him and both men were able to get the heavy shelf up enough to allow one of them to slip through. 

“I’ll hold it up from the other side,” Chris darted before darting underneath and getting into the room. He probably didn’t want Leon to be the first inside in case there was something dangerous. Leon held up the bookshelf with effort and his grip was slipping when Chris was able to help him keep it up again. Chris strained with the effort and Leon knew that he had only a few seconds to get through before their strengths would fail them and—

Chris’s eyes went huge. His mouth opened to speak as something took Leon by the waist, something stronger than him, something that could break his bones. Leon looked down to see the horrific claws of a fleshy monstrosity and felt fear lace through him. He looked back up in time to make one final second of eye contact with Chris before he was yanked away and thrown to the ground. Leon looked up at the thing that was going to kill him and saw the face of a man who’d been turned into something unholy. The thing took Leon by the waist and slammed him into the grating once, twice, three times, Leon unable to breathe through the blows and the tight grip crushing his lungs. The grate gave out beneath them and Leon plummeted to the ground of the machinery maze below. 

It took two seconds for him to check his own pulse through the fabric of his uniform, make sure his collarbone wasn’t broken again, and affirm that his ribs were in one piece and he could function. Then he rolled to his feet, used to taking a beating regardless of whatever was trying to kill him. Leon backed away, getting space. He needed to keep the space so the swings wouldn’t hit him. He needed to keep light on his feet, needed to be faster than his opponent. He needed to ignore their words. He needed to survive. 

Leon watched the monster clamber to its feet, what had once been a man now torn apart by muscle and flesh and turned into something disgusting. There was an eye settled in the huge, swollen shoulder, and the man’s face was agonized. It had a pipe in its grip, wielding it like a weapon. “Words won’t work on this thing,” Leon told himself, forgoing his training, falling back into what he _really_ knew. Run and hide and survive. 

“Leon!”

Chris’s voice from above tore through Leon’s animal instincts. He looked up and saw that— Chris was very afraid. But he knew Chris wouldn’t be able to come down without risking injury, the height was too great. The monster stood on lumbering, huge legs and roared at Leon. 

“I’ve got this!” Leon shouted even as he retreated, pulling out the shotgun, counting on the eight shells he had for this and the seventeen rounds for Mathilda. “I’ve got this.” He’d faced worse and lived, head held high, overcoming fear. Even as the thing stumbled towards Leon and raised the pipe of his head, intent on cracking open Leon’s skull, he reminded himself that he wasn’t afraid. He just had another giant to fell.

Leon stepped out of reach of the swing and fired twice with Mathilda, knowing he should use his regular bullets first to gauge the pain tolerance and defense. It barely made the creature stumble, but Leon took this in stride, putting more distance, falling back entirely. He gradually searched the entire maze, finding all of the places he absolutely did not want to get cornered it, picking up a few stray bullets that would likely save his life, and ducking under the monster whenever it got too close. It was slow and lumbering and clumsy, if he just kept himself moving—

“Leon!”  
Chris shouting his name again broke Leon’s concentration, giving the monster time to grab Leon _by the fucking skull_ , holding his head in the grip of the huge, disgusting palm. Leon didn’t even cry out, knowing that making noise was going to make things worse for him, he just had to be quiet and it would be over before he knew it. Close your eyes, Leon, think of that safe place, think of the quiet dark of underneath your bed, it’ll okay, it’ll stop hurting soon, you—

_“Leon!”_

Chris was his saving grace, bringing Leon back, bringing him back to the fight, reminding him that he didn’t want to die. He only had a few seconds before his head would be jello so he ran through what he had, what he could afford, what he could—

The flash bang.

Leon tore it from his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it at his feet. The bright light went off and the monster fell away, blinded. Leon fell back and whipped out the shotgun, firing twice into that bulbous eye, watching an orange, almost septic fluid spew from the wounds. Leon rolled back and out of reach and fired twice more, this time with Mathilda. The monster screamed and writhed and Leon advanced, getting closer, risking the loss of distance for better aim. The thing went down on one knee and Leon brought out the shotgun again, firing twice. Four rounds left for the shotgun, seven left in Mathilda. He could do this.

The monster swiped out as it got back on its feet, but Leon was faster, dodging and sprinting around it, back into open space. The monster hit a pipe and there was the sound of metal tearing before steam began to fill the maze, hazing Leon’s vision. That was fine, he could rely on his ears, he knew how to handle blindness, he’d survived worse. Leon slowed his steps, listened carefully, heard—

“Above!”

Leon rolled out of the way at Chris’s warning just as the thing dropped down to where he’d once been. Leon knew his bones would have shattered beneath that thing’s weight. The eye itself was a pulsing orange like a blister about to pop, the body darkening with blood. The monster began to moan, words and sentences that Leon distantly knew, but wouldn’t allowed himself to listen to. It didn’t matter if the monster could speak, didn’t matter if it said it loved Leon and that it was just tired, just had had a bad day, just had had too much on its mind, Leon couldn’t trust words and he couldn’t trust the thing trying to kill him. He fired twice more, brought himself down to five with Mathilda. The monster screamed. It stumbled again. Then it ran for Leon, showing surprising speed. He only barely managed to avoid the things long reach and fired twice into its back. 

Three for Mathilda, four for the shotgun. 

Please let him survive this.

The thing shrieked and ran forward again. Leon backed up quickly, firing two shots into the eye before forging Mathilda’s last bullet entirely. It quivered and spat more filth, and the thing slowed, but didn’t stop. Leon dropped down to his knees, ducking beneath the long claws. He crawled across the grating and backed himself up against a railing that looked down into nothing, loading the shotgun, praying his aim was true. As the monster advanced, Leon stood firm. He fired one— two—three—

The monster howled and swayed and hit the railing beside Leon before tumbling over the edge and falling into the darkness. Leon turned and watched it go, waiting to see that it wasn’t over, that the thing could climb walls like a spider, but it was just— gone.

Oh thank fucking god, it was gone.

“Leon!”

He looked up at his name and watched Chris lower a ladder from above that would bring him back up to Chris’s level, to safety. Leon’s footsteps were sluggish, adrenaline dying hard and leaving him feel wasted and spent. He smiled shakily, if only for Chris’s benefit, looking up at the man from below and trying to prove he was okay. “That could have gone worse,” he said, forcing the positivity because he needed to remind himself that he was alive and that was what mattered. He climbed the ladder with a firm grip, forcing himself to breathe through the come-down off the adrenaline, and when he reached the top, strong hands took him by the arms and pulled him up and into—

Chris’s chest.

Chris was hugging him?

“Oh,” he said softly, a little dazed by the sudden change. When he’d once been cold and feverishly hot from the fight, aching from being bludgeoned and thrown around, he was suddenly surrounded by warmth and comfort, the touch of another human being without the intent to hurt him. He’d never felt this so suddenly, never dropped from animalistic survival into soft comfort. It was making his heart hammer in his chest like he was dying. 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Chris growled into his ear, one arm around Leon’s waist and the other at the nape of his neck, holding tight. “This is why we don’t split up!”

Leon— was struggling to figure out why Chris cared. “I’m okay,” he promised regardless, wanting to soothe the man who was obviously all out of sorts. Chris hadn’t even been the one down there, he’d been safe, why was his heart pounding so loudly against Leon’s chest? Why was he clinging to Leon like he was scared he’d disappear? Regardless, Leon didn’t have it in him to fight _this._ Why should he fight the good touch along with the bad? The last person to hug him had been his girlfriend back in New York, and even that had felt more like a chore to her than a comfort. But Chris— Chris gave really good hugs. Leon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this.

Just as he was starting to adjust, Chris pulled away. His cheeks were pink and he looked almost embarrassed. Did he think Leon hadn’t liked the hug? Or was he just too embedded in maintaining a macho exterior, wanting Leon to be able to look to him for strength and guidance, no emotional inhibition. “We need to keep moving,” Chris said, voice tight. “Wouldn’t want anything else getting the jump on us. What’s your status?”

“Only one bullet for the shotgun and the Heckler left, respectively.”

“I meant your body, Leon.”

It was Leon’s turn to be embarrassed, cheeks flushing. Of course, he was stupid, he should have known Chris cared about that more than the guns. What good was an injured partner? Leon needed to be in top shape for Chris to rely on him. 

“I’m fine,” he said, meaning it. “Nothing’s broken, only a little bruising above my chest and torso. That fucker hit me against that ground enough times to break through the whole thing, but I’m in one piece.”

“Good,” Chris said. “And smart thinking with the flash bang.”

Oh. 

Leon was definitely too keyed up to handle a fucking compliment from his superior. Being told he was good at something at the best of times always broke his control away— when he was coming down from a fight for his life? Even worse. Leon wasn’t the kind of person to cry, but between the hug and then this admission of his decision making, Leon felt overwhelmed. He couldn’t afford to let himself get distracted, though. They weren’t out of the woods yet.

“You’re a good marksman too,” Chris added, effectively ruining Leon. “Honestly, it’s starting to look like you’ve got a better shot than me. Steady hands.” Chris clapped Leon on the shoulder— the good one, the one Leon hadn’t tested when he’d been thrown down a level— and Leon felt like that monster had its hand around his lungs again because he couldn’t fucking breathe. “You’re right,” Chris told him. “I have been underestimating you. But after this? I swear, I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Leon was basically dying at this point. He barely got out, “Thank you, Sir.”

Chris smiled— he _smiled_ — and shook his head. “It’s Chris, Leon, remember? Call me Chris.”

Leon stepped away from Chris, needing space, needing room to breathe, and avoided Chris’s gaze like the plague to hide his weakness. There was something treacherous digging in his chest, a horrible feeling that he knew well and scared him. He couldn’t do this, not now, not when the world was ending and he was bruised and aching and Chris was trusting him to be his partner. He couldn’t— Leon couldn’t betray Chris like this. “Sorry,” he said, covering up how he’d suddenly pulled away. “I— still a little hurt. That’s all.”

“Do you need something for the pain?”

Chris’s voice was quiet concern and something Leon didn’t deserve. He shook his head and made himself stand tall again, denying the pain in his chest that was from more than the battle he’d survived. “We need to move,” he said. “On you.”

Chris’s mouth fell into a grim line and he nodded. “On me.” Thankfully, Chris didn’t say anything else. He moved on, taking the lead, and Leon was given a semblance of peace from behind, not having to worry about hiding anything when Chris was facing ahead. 

Only now did Leon’s hands start shaking. 

Chris led them down another grated hall to a ladder that stretched up into a circular tunnel. “Let me go first,” Leon requested. When Chris looked to him incredulously, Leon fumbled to explain. “I’m not injured, but I’m definitely not at my best after that. If something comes up behind us and decided it wants to pull me back down, I won’t be able to hold on. I know it’s unfair to ask this of you, but you have a better chance of keeping your grip.”

“And if there’s something up above?” Chris shot back.

“Then we fall back and find another way.” When Chris heaved an unhappy sound and thought hard, Leon raised a brow. “I thought you were done underestimating me, Sir?”

“And I thought you were going to start calling me Chris.” Chris shook his head, then waved three fingers above, giving Leon his orders. “Go. I’ll watch your back.”

Leon nodded his thanks, happy Chris was starting to put a little trust in him, and started the climb, going slow for the way his shoulder was protesting. He hadn’t taken a beating like that in years. When he’d been little, he’d used to recover a lot faster, but those days were gone. Now Leon was out of practice in ignoring injuries and pushing past the nerve response. He’d have to fix that. Leon wondered if there were exercises he could control that would re-condition himself to pain. Maybe having a few broken bones by the end of this would help.

Fucking stop that shit, Leon.

The heavy footsteps of Chris behind him were comforting, an auditory and reassuring presence. And hey, if Leon’s arms suddenly gave out? Chris was probably strong enough to catch Leon and keep him from falling on his neck. Leon reached the top of the ladder and carefully pushed up the manhole cover, squinting against the light that beamed into his eyes, and peered out. 

It was the precinct parking garage that was seemingly empty, save a few patrol cars, one car in particular parked beyond the closed gate that had its headlights on and shining into the garage itself. He couldn’t hear footsteps or anything that could suggest the place was anything but devoid of— life? Leon wasn’t sure what the word for it would be, he was just pretty confident they wouldn’t find a shuffling zombie in here. Leon pushed back the cover completely and climbed out, grunting with the effort, then turning to offer Chris a hand. Chris took the offer and Leon pulled the man up and onto his feet, enjoying the warmth of Chris’s palm in his own if only for the joy of touching another living thing when surrounded by so much death. But then Chris was pulling away to trade Leon’s hand for a gun, and that was the end of Leon’s reprieve.

Immediately, Chris’s eyes swept the garage, outwardly unhappy with all of the blindspots they had thanks to the vehicles. There were three doors that Leon could see, two of them with red lights overhead, the other light being green. The countless cars and even the SWAT vehicle were all a mess of pseudo-walls and hiding spots that they couldn’t possibly keep in sight at all times.

“You check out the status of the gate,” Chris ordered, holding the Samurai Edge up and at the ready, not sparing Leon a second glance. “I’m gonna to check that room.” Chris was gone before Leon could argue— not that he would. Chris knew what he was doing and Leon was pretty confident at this point that he had no reason not to trust him. Still. He was starting to wish Chris would include him in some of his decision making. Maybe Leon was having those same problems with authority Chris had laid claim to as well. Maybe he should really start speaking up and letting Chris know his thoughts. After all, Chris had been the one upset about them being split apart while Leon fought that— thing. Why would Chris then split up again so suddenly? It just didn’t make sense with the characteristics Chris had already shown himself to have. 

Focus, Kennedy.

Leon waited for the soft click of the door falling shut behind Chris before moving quietly across the garage concrete flooring, alert regardless of his initial assessment at safety. And he was rewarded for his vigilance, because as he approached the parking garage access computer, he heard— a howl. Not the howl of the damned or undead. An actual, wolfish howl, like out of a movie or Leon’s nightmares. And it was way too close.

Leon swallowed down his nervousness and ignored the howling, moving to the console. He looked at the slot of an access card with dismay. “Damn,” he said to himself. “Need a key card…”

There was a growl behind him. Leon almost didn’t want to turn around. He forwent the instinct to hide and turned regardless, heart sinking when he saw the— 

Was it even a dog anymore?

A Doberman, a common police dog breed, but it was _wrong_ on so many levels, with glassy white eyes and red decay covering its body, teeth barred and organs exposed like something had torn into it. It was dead, it had to be fucking dead, but it moved towards Leon with the intent to make him just as dead as it was supposed to be. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Leon groaned as the Doberman dug its paws in and _charged_ , leaping into the air and colliding with Leon’s chest before he could get Mathilda locked and loaded and useless because _he had one bullet left_ and this thing was too fucking fast. Mathilda skidded away across the ground as the Doberman pinned him and Leon cried out, struggling for his life, holding the thing back by with a hand around its throat. 

“Get off of me!” he shouted desperately. Leon reached out blindly, hoping to pick up Mathilda from where she’d fallen so he could bludgeon this thing’s head in, but she was too far. Those jaws snapped a mere inch from his face. Leon could feel its hot breath on his face, knew this thing was starving with its need to devour him. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off forever. It thrashed in his grip, nearly yanking itself away, moving back on its hind legs to lurch down with more force and sink its teeth into—

The dog jerked to the side as a bullet embedded itself in the neck, just short of taking off Leon’s fingertips. Leon dropped the dog onto its side and sat up on his elbows, half expecting Chris to start yelling at him about losing his focus and not calling for help when he heard a female voice beckoning him with a sharp, “Hey!”

Leon’s head snapped to the side to see a female silhouette, a figure with toned legs and a trench jacket, a gun held to the side. “Who is that?” he called out, wary.

“Stay sharp!” she barked.

Leon looked just as the dog began to growl again. He grabbed Mathilda and slugged his last bullet into the thing’s brain, praying it would stay down for good. Heels clicked on the concrete as the woman stalked towards him. Chris had talked so much about betrayal— Leon wasn’t about to take any chances. He aimed Mathilda at the woman, hoping she wouldn’t notice that the poor thing was empty. Even the illusion was better than nothing.

The woman was aiming her handgun at him too. “Lower it.”

Leon was about to argue when there was the click of a slide being drawn and Chris’s voice behind her. “Ladies first,” said Chris, sounding _angry_ while Leon could only be relieved the man was back. “You could have taken his entire fucking hand off with that crack shooting. You trying to line yourself up as a cop killer?”

The woman went stiff as Chris became visible beyond her shoulder. There was a lurch in her person, likely Chris pushing his gun into her spine. “You said it first,” Chris growled. “Lower. It.”

The woman let her arm fall, the muzzle pointing at the floor. Leon was about to start asking questions when she looked at Chris, expression unreadable through large sunglasses perched on her nose, and said, “FBI— you better get that gun off of me before I decide I hold a grudge.”

Leon watched shock flash over Chris’s face. Then, “Let’s see some ID, then, _Agent._ ” 

The sarcasm wasn’t lost to either of them, but even Leon knew they would have to admit defeat when the woman held up the badge and the identification card just beneath. Chris took a step back and the woman relaxed, likely because there wasn’t a gun in her back anymore.

“Sorry,” Leon said as he put Mathilda away, knowing he was officially in the wrong. “Thank you—”

The woman quickly brought her gun up again and shot the dog a third time just as it sprung back to life with the intent to tear them all apart. Leon looked at the corpse for the dog that just wouldn’t quit and finished his sentence. “… For your help.”

The woman let out a snort and stepped back, glancing between Leon and Chris. “Surprised you made it this far,” she commented idly, like they were discussing early morning dinner plans rather than the apocalypse. She began to walk away, but Leon had some questions. 

“FBI, huh?” he said, hoping to get her to stay. Chris wasn’t going to tell him. Speaking off, Chris was staring daggers into the woman’s back, his Samurai Edge still held firmly in both hands, ready to take her down. Leon didn’t want to say Chris was paranoid, but surely this conspiracy couldn’t go as high as the federal government. The FBI being here could only be a help for them. “What’s going on here?” 

“Sorry,” she replied with more sarcasm in her tone than Chris had managed. “That information’s classified.”

Chris sneered and grumbled something under his breath as she stalked away. 

“Where are you going?” Leon asked her.

She paused, then turned on her heel to face him. Leon wished he could see her face and get some insight into what she was thinking. He wondered if she wore those glasses to make it easier on herself, or if she knew she’d give everything away if someone were to just look into her eyes. Maybe her poker face was for shit.

Still— Leon got the feeling she was glaring at him. “Do yourself a favor,” she said. “Stop asking questions and get the hell out of here.” She spun back around and all but stomped for one of the doors that had once been red, the door in the back right corner of the garage. 

“Hey!” Leon called out, a little desperate and more than a little tired of being ignored by his superiors. “I’m not done talking to you!”

The door shut behind her and Leon was left standing there, feeling like an idiot. Not only had he dropped Mathilda, he’d also made himself look like a total idiot in front of an FBI Agent and Chris. This was not his day.

Chris scowled at where she’d gone and then moved to Leon, gently bumping their shoulders. “That was rather fucking serendipitous, don’t you think?” Of course Chris would be more paranoid than Leon, Chris had been downright betrayed by his commanding officer. It didn’t matter how high up Leon couldn’t imagine this going, Chris had every right to be suspicious of _everyone._ Hell, Leon had been lucky that Chris hadn’t just shot _him_ on sight when they’d first met. Maybe Leon shouldn’t be trusting that this woman was FBI at all.

Leon managed to bring himself from his thoughts to see Chris was looking at him with some sort of sympathy. “She almost shot you,” Chris told him. “That’s not how any superior should be with their men, regardless of how far down the food chain or differing branches. She should have waited for a clear shot instead of just hoping your hand wouldn’t be in the way. She also didn’t have to be such a fucking bitch in her responses. It’s fucking zombies out there, Leon— you have every right to ask. No such thing as a stupid question in the end of the world. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t think about her.” Chris was his saving grace, always there to keep him on track and keep him realistic. The FBI Agent really had been a bit reckless with her shooting and Leon probably hadn’t deserved the way she’d brushed him off like he was the dirt beneath her feet. “What did you find out?”

“We need a keycard,” Leon replied. “That’s the only way to open this gate.”

Chris nodded. “I saw the kennels, firing range, and the morgue. Didn’t check them out— heard the growling and your shouting, so I came back.” Chris looked away, his brow pinched. Leon—

“Were you worried about me?” Leon asked. “What happened to not underestimating me?”

“You just came off a fight with a man that was more Lovecraft body horror than human,” Chris shot back, inexplicably defensive. “You had one bullet for each gun. If course I was worried.”

If anything, knowing this only made Leon feel like he could breathe a little easier. He grinned a little, wanting Chris to know he appreciated the concern, even though he knew saying so out loud would probably embarrass the older man. “We should check out where she went,” he said, ignoring the ache in his bones in favor of pursuing their goal of getting out of this place and finding Claire. “Maybe we can stumble over a keycard.”

“She went into the holding cells,” Chris told him. Leon was also extremely grateful for Chris’s knowledge of the precinct— he would be _literally_ lost without him. “I’m not sure who was kept in there before everything went to shit, but I’m gonna bet we’ll find more than just your regular transit sleeping it off. We’ll find _something_ , that’s for sure.”

Leon nodded. “On you?”

Chris nodded back and handed Leon a box of bullets— 15 fresh rounds for Mathilda. “On me.”

As he took the bullets with a third wave of overwhelming gratitude for Chris Redfield, FBI or not, Leon felt a hell of a lot safer with Chris than any federal agent could ever make him feel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did y'all ever listen to the fucking band called LostProphets cause i did and i just rediscovered them and i love them *so god damn much* like wtf
> 
> also i got my Kotobukiya Leon S. Kennedy DSO Vendetta figure and he's like a foot tall and gorgeous and i'm *in love* and I can't wait to get Chris next so i can have my two zombie fighting husbands side by side on my mantle live your dreams friends v

That FBI Agent was a threat and Chris wanted to strangle her for nearly taking off Leon’s hand, “FBI” or not. Issues with authority didn’t even _begin_ to cover how upset Chris was right now as Leon followed him dutifully past the quiet cells of the jail beneath the precinct. The kid behind him was breathing quietly and staying silent, but nearly pressed against Chris’s back whenever Chis stalled, and he genuinely relished these moments where Leon was a physical touch, because that meant the kid was fucking alive and functioning and he wasn’t monster-meat for some crazed man or canon-fodder for carless women. 

Leon had said he knew how he looked— did that mean he understood that people would walk all over him and relish the pained sounds they could wring from his body? Did that mean Leon understood the sickening human desire to hurt things that looked perfect and vulnerable? Was Leon even close to understanding how much pleasure the world would take in making him suffer?

Chris jumped when a zombie flung itself at the bars of its cell, and Leon let out a soft noise behind him. “It’s okay, Sir,” Leon whispered, sounding like he was inches from Chris’s ear. He could feel Leon’s breath on his neck. “I’ve got your back.”

God in heaven, why did the idea of having a rookie at his six fill him with such relief? Maybe that was just the Leon S. Kennedy special. Even for his lack of experience, he exuded safety and refuge like a visible aura. Chris knew better than to be lured into a false sense of security, but— he could easily see this man becoming a cop and excelling. Even if it were disaster relief, if Officer Kennedy showed up, the people would know they were in good hands.

“There’s light from down there,” Leon whispered, his words like fire on Chris’s heated skin. “Should we check it out?”

“Might be the FBI Agent,” Chris replied just as quietly. “Got it in me to give her another piece of my mind.”

“She’s just doing her job,” Leon said, and that— that was a load of bullshit. Chris decided they could forgo using their inside voices for this. Everything was locked and there was little power to change the fact. He was going to get some shit through Leon’s head, and niceties didn’t always work.

“You told me you know what you look like,” Chris reminded the kid. “You know just as well as I do that she think you’re just some dumb beat cop that isn’t going to be useful to anyone. Why else would she have shot at you like that?”

“To save me from the infected dog attacking me?” Leon suggested, sighing a little. “I don’t know, Sir, I just— I’m not saying she’s an ally, but can we at least agree that I probably would have died if she hadn’t shown up?” When Chris opened his mouth to argue, that he would have been there, Leon beat him to the punch. “You had us split up,” he reminded Chris with a worried edge to his voice. “After just talking about how bad it was for us to have done so at all. I know you wouldn’t have made it back in time and I don’t think I would even be alive if she hadn’t shown up. Even though I don’t trust her, I am grateful. Trust and gratitude aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Chris’s ears went red, mollified, unable to deny that Leon was right— he’d stupidly split them up and Leon had nearly paid the price. Chris had just been so fucking paranoid. He’d known the morgue was down that way and he’d been worried that they would have some sort of fucking horde to deal with from there. Then he’d remembered the kennels at the last second and just— 

It was his own fault and it had nearly cost Leon his life. The fact sunk uneasily in Chris’s gut and left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d talked such big shit about knowing what he was doing and he was already putting Leon in worse situations than he’d found him in. Fuck, maybe Leon would be better off if Chris left him behind. Then Chris would—

What would he do?Leon was here for Claire, Chris was here for Claire. There was nothing that should have them separating from here on out and honestly? Telling himself Leon was safer? That was hardly the truth. Even if Leon was proving himself to be much more adept with puzzles and critical thinking than Chris, he still needed someone to watch his back. No, Chris would stick with Leon— he’d just avoid making the same mistake twice and never split up again, if he had any say in it. Leon wasn’t like Rebecca, Leon had a gun. Leon was going to stay with him.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said, hiding his face in shame for his actions and even having to apologize. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just knew that the morgue was there and I was worried we’d have a bigger problem on our hands than we could handle. I should have— I should have remembered the kennel.” Chris ran his hand over his face. “Fuck,” he spat to himself. “I’ve even seen these dogs before, back at the Spencer Mansion. They were what killed a good chunk of S.T.A.R.S., I should have _fucking known_ this would happen when there are kennels here at the precinct, why did I—”

“Hey.”

Leon’s soft voice and a tentative hand on his shoulder stopped Chris mid-sentence. He looked to Leon with a grimace, hating himself for shattering his perfect image in Leon’s eyes. He was supposed to be this kid’s leader, his safeguard, the one getting him through this with confidence and all their limbs intact, and yet he’d already fucked up this badly. He wondered what Leon had to be thinking of him. _What a screw-up, what an failure, what a fucking—_

“If it helps, I wouldn’t have thought of the kennels either,” Leon told him with a small grin. “If anything, you’re still a step ahead, knowing about the morgue. Thanks for looking out for me.”

Chris was about to have an aneurism and it was all thanks to this man, who could somehow be the most genuine and sincere _badass_ at the same time. Chris had no idea how Leon had gone from taking on a monster nearly twice his size to going stiff in Chris’s arms like he didn’t even know what a hug was.

“There’s just so much going on,” Leon continued, his hand falling away from Chris’s body and leaving a warmth that Chris couldn’t shake. “Honestly, I’ve barely been keeping my head on straight. You already have so much to remember. It’s okay forget a few things. We survived it, didn’t we? That’s what matters.”

There was a sudden bang behind them as another undead body-slammed its cell door uselessly, making both Chris and Leon jump. Chris mentally thanked the poor zombie for bringing him back to the present. He was supposed to be focusing on sweeping the area and finding that FBI Agent, not letting Leon S. Kennedy make him feel better about himself. But even for his own personal admonishment, Chris couldn’t help but feel a little better. He valued little else more than the support of his fellow men. Knowing Leon had his back, even after such a colossal fuck-up— it felt damn good. 

“You’re right,” Chris said gruffly. “We survived. That’s what matters. Now let’s get our heads in the game and survive this next part too, deal?”

“Deal,” Leon echoed, watching the zombie— a woman with her clothes covered in old vomit and scraggly hair— paw uselessly at the iron. He had a far-away look in his eyes, an expression that was becoming a familiar sign of the man getting lost in his head again, avidly solving a puzzle in his thoughts. Chris nudged him carefully and Leon looked to the light that was down the hall, the main objective. 

“On me?” Chris asked gently.

“On you,” Leon said with a nod.

Chris gave Leon a tight smile before stepping as lightly as he could down the last of the line of jail cells, ignoring the growls and clamor of the poor fuckers that had died in their prisons and come back as something unholy. He almost wanted to check the logs and see what these people had been held for, wanted to quell the pity he felt. If he knew that these people deserved to be in these cells, maybe he’d feel less awful for the way they’d died slowly and alone. They moved past the last of them and into the light to find—

“A person?” Chris asked no one, a little shocked to see a normal, un-turned, living human being sitting in the cell. The man was wearing an overcoat and large glasses, his hair swept back elegantly as he smoked a cigarette. 

As they came into view, the man sat up, an excited call of, “Hello?” echoing over the concrete.

“Hey!” Leon strode ahead, instantly more trusting than Chris right off the bat. Chris held back, figuring they’d be safe regardless of whoever this was thanks to the bars separating them. He would keep an eye on their six while Leon handled this. Leon went straight up to steel bars and held on, getting as close to this man as possible, who was doing the same. 

“I don’t believe it,” the man breathed. “A real human. Hello, human!” Chris’s eye twitched at the weird things this guy was saying, wondering if he was some kind of special. Maybe a reporter? Reporters always liked to think they were clever about this shit. _Doctor Livingston, I presume?_ Of course they were human, but how long had this guy been down here?”

“You been here long?” Leon asked, obviously on the same page.

“Long enough!” the man exclaimed, still sounding so relieved. Then he looked past Leon to Chris, acknowledging him with a sharp dip of his head. “Are we the last ones alive?”

Leon shook his head, falling into that instinctual “cop comforts the civilian” mindset. “No, no, there’s a few of us,” he denied, making it sound like there was more than there actually were. On Chris’s count, there were five— himself, Leon, FBI Agent fuck-face, and Claire. And then this guy.

“Oh,” the man said almost stiffly. “That’s good news, I guess.” He guessed? Chris scrunched his nose up, not liking this man one bit. But then the man said, “Unless, of course, Irons sent you.”

This guy had Chris’s full attention.

“Irons…?” Leon repeated slowly. “You mean Chief Irons? Is he still around?”

Chris prayed the Chief wasn’t around, but if this guy was an enemy of Irons, then he could be an ally of anyone. Chris still wasn’t sure if Irons was dirty or not. Maybe the man in the jail cell could be the one to clear things up for him.

“Who cares?” the man said, sealing his fate against Leon’s sensibilities, because Leon didn’t want anyone dead, no matter how bad they were. Leon took a step away from the cell, visibly distancing himself from the man that he was probably less sympathetic towards at this point. Chris ruefully shook his head, wondering what kind of stupid that man was to think it’d be good to badmouth the Chief of Police to a uniformed cop. “Hopefully he’s somebody’s dinner by now!”

“What do you mean by that?”

Leon’s voice— had never sounded like that before. Low and dangerous, defensive and angry, almost disbelieving. Maybe it was because the jailed man showed so little value for life? For all Irons had fucked Chris over, even he didn’t wish death around like it was sweepstakes. And Leon— god, Leon was probably even _more_ against it.

“He’s the bastard that locked me in here,” the man said, getting a little more desperate as he saw Leon, his only hope of getting out of prison, inching away. At least the idiot knew how badly he’d messed up.

“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Leon replied firmly. 

Yeah, this guy was screwed.

Except— the man’s demeanor changed. “He did,” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette before flicking it aside, exuding some kind of arrogance. “I was about to blow the whistle on his dirty ass.”

Definitely a reporter— and Chris was listening again.

“I’d have done the same thing too, I guess,” the man admitted. 

Leon looked ready to ask after more when there was the sudden screech of a gate being pulled away, metal dragging across a concrete floor. Leon and the man both startled while Chris pulled up his firearm, staring down the hall they’d come from, where he’d heard the noise. He stepped closer to Leon, shielding the kid from whatever was coming. 

The man in the cell grabbed at the bars. “Hey!” he cried out, beckoning Leon’s attention back to him while Chris kept his sights down the hall. “I’ll make you a deal… Unlock this cell and and I’ll give you this.” Chris glanced over and saw the man was holding— a fucking keycard. How the hell had he gotten his paws on that? “There’s no other way outta that parking garage, believe me!”

“Sorry,” Leon denied, though there was some new edge to his voice, something hesitant. “We can’t do that. We have to talk to the Chief first.”

Chris frowned to himself, thinking they probably should just let this guy out. If he had information on Irons that could clear up Chris’s suspicions and even get them that keycard, then maybe they really should strike that deal. But then Chris realized that even he didn’t have the first clue how to get this guy out of there. Leon was just saying that to buy them time— he didn’t want the civilian to lose his ability to rely on cops when they should be able to look to the uniform and what it meant with confidence. Jesus, Leon was trying to help this man still feel _safe_.

There was more clatter from where the sound had first originated and Chris widened his stance, knowing instinctively that whatever this was was fucking _big_.

“Wrap it up, Leon,” Chris ordered quietly, catching Leon’s gaze for only a moment before he had his eyes back down the hall again, waiting for anything.

“Look, we’re both prisoners in this station,” the man pleaded from behind bars. “So either we play nice and help each other out—”

There was the drag of something _heavy_ from beyond and even Chris’s hardened instincts were telling him to run. Leon wavered in his solid ground, moving towards Chris as Chris moved close to Leon. Chris made sure he was in front— whatever was coming would have to go through him first. 

“Shit,” the man said. “It’s coming.”

“Fucking hell,” Chris bit out, his grip on his Samurai Edge white.

“What?” Leon asked, pulling away from Chris to hold to the bars. “What’s coming?”

“C’mon—c’mon! Don’t be an asshole! Okay?” The man was backing away from the front of the cell, retreating to the walls behind him. He held up the keycard again, begging for his life, for mercy. “You need this!”

His back was to the wall now, the scraping and clattering of stone and metal louder than ever. It was coming closer and Chris _still couldn’t see it._ He reached out and grabbed Leon by the shoulder, pulling him back from the cell, pulling him closer to Chris. But Leon fought against his grip and pressed back against the bars, still intending to save and protect.

“Just get me the fuck out of here!” the man screamed before the wall behind him burst open like a shell and a huge, inhuman hand took the man by his face and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing. Leon drew his firearm and aimed, but Chris knew they didn’t have a clean shot. The man screamed as he was flung around like a rag doll, and then—

The huge hand squeezed around his face and blood splattered with a single, bulbous eye erupting from between the fingers and from the man’s once-whole skull. Leon flinched back from the carnage as the hand dropped the dead man to the ground and then retracted back into the wall it had ruined. Lumbering footsteps heralded the departure of that fucking _beast_ and Chris tried to pull Leon away again, not wanting the kid anywhere near that. But Leon wrenched himself from Chris’s grip again and rested his hand on the bars, staring at what had become of their tentative ally. “Oh my god,” Leon breathed, sounding almost sick.

“Leon, we need to—” There were footsteps again, this time the clicking of heels. Chris already knew who this would be and scowled as he aimed his sights back down the hall at the approaching figure. 

“Who is that?!” Leon demanded, his voice shaking at the edges as he whipped out his own gun and aimed down the same sights as Chris. God, Chris wished Leon hadn’t seen this.

“It’s just me,” responded the FBI Agent that Chris really wanted to shoot, chain of command or not. She’d been so careless with Leon’s life— that wasn’t the kind of superior Chris could follow. “So you can put those things away,” she said, dropping her gaze between both their guns. She strode to the cell and looked inside. 

“I-I don’t even know what happened—” Leon stammered, gesturing uselessly at the mangled body. “It just… happened so quickly.” Chris’s heart went out to the kid— another person they failed to save, even if it was out of their hands. 

The woman frowned. “I told you both to get out of here,” she snapped, looking mainly to Chris like she knew he was the one calling the shots. “You wouldn’t want to end up like Ben, would you?”

Ben? Where had Chris heard that name?

“You knew him?” Leon asked. That was probably more important that Chris’s question.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest unhappily. “He was an informant. Had information of use to my investigation.”

“What investigation?” Chris asked. She glared at him.

“So what he said was true?” Leon then asked, drawing her attention back to him. The woman seemed a lot more eager to speak with Leon than Chris. Chris didn’t blame her since Leon tended to exude sunshine and hope even when covered in blood, but he didn’t like the attention on Leon regardless. 

The woman didn’t answer Leon and started to stride away, but Leon reached out and took her by the arm, exclaiming, “Hey, you can’t keep walking away from me!” The woman yanked her arm from his grip and looked Leon up and down with such _disgust_ that it had Chris’s blood boiling. Leon stepped back, appearing chastised, which was bullshit. Leon had every right to be frustrated with this woman. “We don’t even know your name,” Leon said. He paused, then, “I’m Leon Kennedy.”

Chris watched something _change_ in the woman’s face and he didn’t like it. 

“And your friend there?” she asked, glancing to Chris who was squaring his shoulders and readying himself to tear her a new one if she dared to make the wrong move. When Chris didn’t immediately answer— he didn’t know if his name was a red flag in the federal government yet depending on who owned who— she shook her head, seemingly just as frustrated with them as they were with her. “Find a way out, Leon,” she said, using Leon’s name like it was an insult. “Before it’s too late… Then we’ll talk.”

She turned and started to walk away from them again, but not before saying, “Name’s Ada.”

Leon didn’t look mollified, but Chris was happy to see Agent Ada gone. Leon looked back into the cell, at Ben’s ruined body. “Well I guess the deal’s on,” he told Chris. “We need that keycard.”

“And we’re just gonna ignore that whole conversation?” Chris asked. “Not to mention her rather perfect timing in missing whatever the fuck did this to this guy? Also, hey— how about _whatever the fuck did this to this guy?_ ”

“We don’t have any way of finding those answers right now, so shouldn’t we focus on what we can do?”

Leon was right, but Chris was still _pissed._ “I don’t like her,” he told Leon. “Something tells me that she’s not on our side. Maybe not against us, but definitely not with our program.”

“And what is our program?” Leon shot back. “We’re just trying to find a way out, which is exactly what Agent Ada is telling us to do. If anything, she’s just encouraging us to do what we’ve been doing. Unless you have some ulterior motive I don’t know about?”

Chris didn’t, but he was falling back into old ways. He’d been snooping around a conspiracy well before the Spencer Mansion incident and old habits died hard. Chris grimaced and looked away, wishing he could actually pull Leon into this web of evil and at least have the kid understand where he was coming from. “You’re right,” he said instead. “I was wrong to say that. We’re just trying to find a way out.”

“And find Claire,” Leon reminded him.

God, how could Chris have forgotten? Maybe it was because he was confident in Claire’s ability to defend herself. It wasn’t like she could be any worse off than them— what else could this damned city have in store? Surely nothing worse for his sister. 

Leon was watching him closely. “Is there something more?” he pressed carefully. “You can— I’m not your enemy, Sir. You can tell me.”

“I refuse to bring you into this,” Chris said firmly. “Not any further than you already are. I’ve told you that.”

He expected more of a fight. He was surprised when Leon only heaved a sigh and nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” Leon said. “I shouldn’t have pushed. Just— for now, all we can do is find a way to get that keycard and get out of here. Do you know how we can get power back into this place?”

Chris looked past Leon to the electrical panel that was just beside the cell. He pointed at it for Leon to direct his attention to. “There’s some shit missing from there,” he said, shakily familiar with the way the gates worked. “I’m pretty sure that if we find it, we can figure this out.” 

Leon looked to the table that was just beneath the panel that had a piece of paper atop it. He picked up the leaf of paper and skimmed it quickly. “We need two power panel parts,” he said. “What an alliteration. I don’t know where we can find them, exactly? Says here the clocktower and somewhere else.” He grimaced and looked to Chris. “Back to the station it is— any ideas how we get there?” 

Chris shrugged. “We’ll find a way, I’m sure. For now, we should clear this place. If we’re going to be coming back, I want to make sure nothing down here will catch us off guard. From there, we’ll find a way back up and get us the keycard and get the fuck out of dodge.”

Leon nodded along. Then, “Or… we wait.”

“Wait? For what?”

“For Claire,” Leon said. “She was trying to find a way into the police station to find you. Maybe we should wait for her. We wouldn’t want to accidentally leave her behind.

Chris was suddenly faced with an impossible decision.

He knew Claire was likely going to be searching the police station and that if he really did want to meet up with her, his best bet would be to hang tight and remain in the station until she showed up. But that was a risky decision. Chris had no idea what the government was going to do with Raccoon City, nor did he knew what Umbrella had in store. He also didn’t know if the infection would worsen, if ongoing mutations would exacerbate the situation and put himself in further danger. Chris would be fine with the risk if it was just him but—

He couldn’t have Leon remaining in a place like this. He just couldn’t. Leon S. Kennedy needed to be out of here, needed to be safe and sound and whole, and he couldn’t be that while remaining in the city on just some off chance that Claire could stumble past them. So Chris was faced with the impossible decision— wait around for his sister, or get Leon S. Kennedy out of here. 

He hated himself for what he was about to choose. 

“We’re getting out of here,” he told Leon, the words bitter in his mouth as he sent a silent apology to his sister. Leon had already seen far too much. If Chris could save Leon from experiencing anything worse, then he’d count that as a win in his book. “Claire is smart, she’ll be able to handle herself. I want you and I out of here. Once we’re out, we can send for help, and they’ll find Claire if she hasn’t already escaped. But right now, my priority is—”

He cut himself off, suddenly terrified of giving too much away. Leon leaned forward, searching Chris’s expression with earnest, young eyes. “Your priority is what?” Leon asked. “If you tell me, maybe I can help.”

God, sometimes Leon said things that just made Chris’s heart _ache._

“My priority is getting both of us out of here alive,” Chris said softly, muddling the truth only a little, because he knew that if he told Leon his true concern— his need get Leon out and away from all of this— Leon would fight him on it. _“She’s the civilian,”_ Leon had said about Claire. _”Protecting civilians is our job.”_ Well Chris’s job was making sure no one else fell to Umbrella’s cluthces, and if that meant letting his sister been on her own for a while longer, then so be it. Chris would have to make peace with himself later— Leon Kennedy was his priority until further notice. “Let’s get moving, Leon,” he ordered. “We’ll check out the kennels and morgue and further first, see if we can find a way back into the station. On me.”

Leon nodded, ever the perfect soldier. “On you.”

. . .

The kennels fucking sucked and while Chris considered himself a dog person, he would likely never own a pet pup. Too many times had those fuckers advanced on them with animalistic speed, too many times had Leon nearly been thrown to the ground and had his throat torn open by slobbering jowls, too many fucking times had Chris been terrified he’d be too late again. These animals moved faster than their bullets could track them and Chris almost wished they could split up again just so Leon would feel like it was safe to use the shotgun to defend himself. The dogs were smart— even though Chris was leading, the dogs went for the person at the back of the pack, just like wolves when thinning the herd. Intelligent little fucks— infuriatingly intelligent. Leon had a small imprint of teeth in his leg and Chris had the bruise of a dog’s canines in his elbow. He wondered if this shit would scar— he also wondered how the infection spread.

They were in the morgue now, checking the drawers for the refrigerator. Leon and Chris had managed to scavenge a few extra bullets here and there along with a remote clicker for a patrol car, but Chris still felt like his Samurai Edge was constantly running on empty. His current five bullets to his name were like bullet holes themselves in his mind, the source of a near constant anxiety. At this rate, Leon was more put together than he was.  
Leon pulled open a draw and made a noise of disgust. There was the prone body of a man laid across, fully dressed and not standard for a body you would expect to find in a police morgue. He wasn’t even dressed down for an autopsy. He was just— fucking dead. 

“There’s something by his head,” Leon said. “How much do you wanna bet he’s gonna move?”

Chris snorted a laugh. “I’ll take that bet— I’ll buy you coffee if that thing moves.”

Leon flushed and Chris laughed. “Or you can buy me coffee?” he posed, figuring Leon was just embarrassed Chris had so readily taken the loss. “Whatever it is, pretty sure you and I both are going to need a hot cup o’ joe when this is all over. Who cares who buys, right?” Chris stepped forward and craned his neck for a better view of whatever this thing had on it. “Looks important— worth the risk?”

“I-I— sure,” Leon stammered, honestly adorable. Then Leon was reaching out and grabbing whatever was beneath the corpse’s head without hesitation, puling back a key and startling with the corpse reanimated and growled and thrashed onto the floor. 

“What the hell!” Chris cried out, firing three quick shots until the thing’s head exploded and Chris was left with two bullets. “A little warning next time, jesus!”

“I’m so sorry,” Leon said, freaked as all hell. “I didn’t— I wasn’t thinking. About that. I’m sorry.”

Chris sighed, realizing Leon had done that thing again. Retreating into himself and ruminating over some unknown that Chris felt he couldn’t ask about. At least the zombie had been slow and had hit the floor first. Leon hadn’t put them in any real danger, he’d only startled Chris. “It’s fine,” he said. “What is it?”

“A key,” Leon replied, holding it up. “Which brings us up to a crank lever, a key, and now this.”

They’d found the crank lever back in one of the first drawers. “The crank can take us somewhere,” Chris said. “Let’s just check out the generator room last and go from there.”

“Yessir.”

Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What is it gonna take for me to get you to call me Chris?” When Leon’s face flushed even darker, Chris decided he’d go easy on the guy. “Let’s just move out,” he said. “Shouldn’t be anything in our way for now.” They were down on bullets, but at least they’d spent them all in exterminating the shit down here with them. An even trade. 

“Then does that mean…”

Leon’s hesitance was understandable. They both knew they were heading back into the station, one way or another, and Chris knew what the kid didn’t want to see. Marvin Branagh had been in a bad enough way that Chris knew with near certainty what they would find up there, and he wasn’t eager for Leon to have to see it either. But it also couldn’t be avoided. 

Chris stood tall and close enough to brush his shoulder against Leon’s. The man didn’t flinch, but his gaze shot down to the contact with some wild edge that made Chris suspicious of Leon’s previous life all the more in the way that was still making him a little queasy at the edges. Still, “It’ll be okay,” he told Leon firmly, leaving no room for argument. “What has to be done is all there is in front of us. Just keep telling yourself that we have to move forward and leave out all the rest.”

Leon, to his credit, put on a brave face and nodded. “Yessir,” he replied. 

They started moving again, heading to the generator room and hopefully to one of the pieces they needed. Chris was really wishing the precinct were a little more organized about where they kept their shit. Having to cross the grounds over and over again just to match up pieces of some fucked up puzzle was really putting a lot of lives at risk. Still, they’d done a damn good job clearing house and there was next to nothing when they made it to the generator room and found the glaringly loud orange box that rattled with something inside when Leon shook it. “I’d risk opening it now, but I don’t wanna lose whatever it is if it’s small enough,” Leon admitted as he wedged the box between his waist and his belt, probably as secure as they could get it. From there, the only way to go was up.

“This seems almost too easy,” Leon commented softly as they sought out the stairs that Chris knew they’d be able to take up. And wasn’t that an ominous thing to say, even though Leon was right. Knock on wood regardless.

“It’ll be fine,” Chris said as they pushed into the stairwell and looked up, checking the corners as always. It was deathly quiet and even Chris couldn’t help but feel anxious for how simple this was proving to be. Just get up and out, right? Get up and get to the clocktower. The precinct was mostly cleared thanks to Leon’s efficiency and there really wasn’t anything else that could stand between them and escape that they hadn’t seen before. “We just head up, get to the pull up steel gate, and get back into the precinct. The clock tower is up a ways and we might have an issue getting there initially since there’s that hole in the floor of the library, but we should be okay.”

He looked over his shoulder just in time to catch Leon’s grimace. “What’s wrong, kid?”

Leon ducked his head, hiding behind his fringe. “Nothing, Sir,” he said. “Just got a bad feeling.”

Chris wished he could tell the kid to trust his instincts, but they just didn’t have time. “Stick with me,” he told Leon. “I’ll watch your back.”

Leon’s grimace only grew stronger. They climbed the stairs together, Chris facing up, Leon facing down, making sure nothing got the jump on them. The climb was steady and Chris honestly felt like this was it— they’d get the power panel parts, get the keycard, and then they’d get out of Raccoon City. The worst Chris had seen so far were just the Lickers, and even they were a cinch to handle so long as he had Leon. There was really nothing more for them to face. As they reached the steel gate and Leon put in the crank to bring it up and bring them back into the precinct, Chris let himself feel confident. The gate rolled up and Chris watched Leon work, smiling a little to himself. Once they were out of here, he’d get Leon to a clean shower and a warm bed and they’d both sleep this off like it was nothing more than a bad dream, and Leon Kennedy would never have to stare into the eyes of an undead monster ever again.

Chris wasn’t watching ahead— that was the only reason he missed it. The undead woman that was unnaturally quiet to the point where Chris almost wanted to assume intelligence, her gate nearly silent because her shoes were gone and so was her shirt. Chris was almost sure her entire tongue had to be gone, bitten off in the midst of a death rattle and swallowed. That was why Chris hadn’t heard her until it was too late, he was sure of it. It was why he hadn’t noticed her until she was right on top of Leon, a gurgling cry finally passing her lips that had to be a noise of triumph as she readied herself to sink her teeth into Leon’s clean flesh. 

Chris had three seconds to catalogue that he didn’t have a clean shot, didn’t have time to draw a weapon, didn’t have time to pull Leon away— and that those rotten teeth were heading right for Leon’s jugular. He had three seconds to catalogue everything he couldn’t do and the one thing he could.

Chris fucking body slammed the bitch, driving the zombie into the wall with his shoulder in her neck and his elbow in her side and his entire left arm and face exposed to that disgusting mouth that gusted rancid air onto his skin. Chris had a moment of relief in knowing that this monster wasn’t about to take Leon from him before the searing pain of blunt teeth tearing into the flesh of his upper left bicep overtook his being, his entire arm going numb the next second he watched those teeth pull away red flesh with animalistic hunger, those glassy eyes boring into Chris, reveling in the taste of him. The numbness swam and surged and bled away into _pain_ again before there was a warlike cry from behind him and the discharge of a gun, the zombie’s head exploding into nothing but brains and blood, splattering the wall and Chris. 

Chris stumbled away and clutched his arm, his ears ringing as shock rolled over him in waves. He fought it down, refusing to let himself fall victim to the involuntary reaction to _being fucking bit by a zombie._ He ran through everything he knew about the T-virus in his head, the likelihood of being infected, the time it would take for the virus to take over, how far away he would have to get from Leon to ensure the kid’s safety. Had Rebecca taught him anything about infection and the way it spread? He couldn’t remember if the bite had been guaranteed to hold the contagion, or if he had a chance. Oh god, what if it was already working through his system? That numbness was returning, spreading down to his fingertips, he could hardly feel the pain of the bite anymore, the chunk of his body that was missing from his arm, blood running sluggishly down his fingers and dripping onto— Leon.

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

Leon’s voice broke through the ringing in his ear, strong and controlled in a way that was almost as shocking as the pain from the bite itself. He was holding Chris steady, had Chris backed against a wall so he wouldn’t fall. Chris could barely see Leon’s face past the encroaching darkness in his vision, the loss of sight coming mainly from panic if he was being honest with himself. If anything, Chris was sure a gunshot wound would be worse than a bite, but thousands of horrible possibilities ran through his mind, infection and turning and then giving Leon a bite to match. He knew the kid wouldn’t leave him no matter what, knew Leon couldn’t lose anyone else tonight. But if Chris really did turn into one of those things—

“Leave me,” Chris croaked even as Leon tore the undershirt he was wearing beneath his uniform for a long strip of cloth that he tied around Chris’s arm, just above the bite, just below his armpit, a tourniquet that would keep him from dying on the floor. “Leon, you gotta—”

“It missed your brachial artery, but we can’t take any chances.” Leon interrupted Chris with insistent mumbling. “We need to get you to a safe room so I can see the bite in good light and then disinfect.” Chris craned his head and was finally able to see Leon’s face— the poor kid was pale and his eyes were dazed like he was miles away. But Chris couldn’t help being impressed— even when going into some sort of shock of his own, Leon was functioning well enough to administer first aid and give Chris orders. His ability to perform like this while underneath extreme duress was— damning. Chris swallowed hard, the darkness creeping in further as he failed to get the panic attack under control. Even now, he didn’t _feel_ any different. He wasn’t sure how Lt. Branagh had gotten his dose of the infection, but maybe it wasn’t spread by the bite. Maybe Chris was going to be okay.

Leon suddenly took Chris by the shoulders and tugged him forward, that dazed look gone and replaced by grim determination. “On me,” he told Chris with no room for argument. “We’re doubling back to the break room. Do not fall behind— shout if you need me to slow down.”

Chris nodded and tried to stand, but his legs felt shaky in a way they never had before, even when facing down that awful red thing from the cemetery at Spencer Mansion. Leon quickly noticed and ducked low, taking Chris’s good arm and slinging it over his shoulder. A wave of _something_ crashed over Chris, something he couldn’t name, something like affection and loyalty and feeling like he didn’t deserve the way Leon was refusing to leave him behind. The bite was spreading another something feverish and hot through him and standing was becoming an effort, his breath too short. He knew his weight would drag Leon down, even as the kid turned and back tracked and hefted Chris along with him. Leon was mumbling something in his ear, a stream of non sensible words that were somehow comforting, because at least it was Leon. 

Everything was a blur, Chris barely jarred by the sound of Leon kicking a door in. He was only aware of the moment he lost bodily contact with Leon. He reacted then— letting out some embarrassing noise and reaching into the growing darkness, terrified of being left behind. But then there was warmth against him again, a hand holding his own, and that voice no longer rambling, saying, “I’m here, I’m here, just lay down for a bit, I need to clean it.” Chris tried to relax, but his breath was coming to fast and there wasn’t enough of it.

He felt hot all over and like his bones were about to vibrate out of their skin— he knew he had to be infected. Chris remembered being terrified of the bite back in Spencer Mansion, more scared of the infection than the actual infected themselves. Rebecca had rambled so much science shit that was too far above his understanding for him to dissect. He wished he’d paid better attention, wished he’d tried to find out for himself. 

Was he going to die like this? So close to his sister, so close to escaping, so close to being free of this nightmare? Was he really going to leave Leon alone in this? Was he going to make Leon leave behind another fellow officer? The ache of knowing the pain he’d inadvertently cause the younger man tore into Chris, breaking away some of the feverish haze. He fought down the darkness and heat, refusing to go down without a fight. Maybe he could stubborn his way out of the infection, if only for a few moments, if only long enough to tell Leon that this wasn’t his fault. Chris had been the one tasked with keeping an eye out for anything beyond the gate, he’d been the one to miss the entire fucking zombie waiting for them, he’d brought this upon himself. 

But Leon— what would happen to him? That tiny whispered promise Chris had heard Leon give Lt. Branagh beneath the precinct wedged its way back into his thoughts, Leon’s voice quietly swearing, _I won’t let you down, Marvin._ Leon S. Kennedy felt such _loyalty_ and Chris couldn’t imagine the pain the poor kid had felt in having to leave a man behind. Chris refused to bring that decision upon Leon again, he wasn’t about to let this thing get the best of him, _he wasn’t going to let Umbrella win._ For Leon, for his sister, and for himself. Chris Redfield wasn’t going to fucking die like this. He wasn’t going to fucking die.

He broke out of the darkness to the sensation of someone still holding his hand and rubbing their thumb across his knuckles and the sound of Leon’s mumbling, an endless rise and fall of gentle words that could almost be neurotic. Chris caught the tail-end of a sentence and his blood ran cold, a nice contrast to how hot he’d been before, but still sickening. 

“— And then you’ll wake up and yell at me for being so fucking stupid to have not seen that coming and you’ll tell me I need to be better and that I could have gotten you killed and you’ll leave me and you’ll find Claire and get her the hell away—”

“Shut up,” Chris rasped, his tongue tasting like death and his arm protesting with the sharp sting of pins, but honestly nothing worse than he could have inspected. With his wits back about him, Chris knew that whatever had come over him hadn’t been from the bite. As he’d diagnosed before, he’d had a panic attack, overcome by the idea of being infected and the fear of becoming a monster. He felt foolish, but not necessarily stupid. He had no idea how the infection had even begun in Raccoon City— he felt like his conclusion of it being passed by a bite was a valid one, though it seemed to not be the case. Now that the panic attack was over, he felt relatively _fine._ “God,” he breathed, sitting up with effort and making a point to not let go of the kid’s hand. The contact was warm and comforting and Leon seemed to need it just as much as he did. 

“Oh,” Leon said intelligently, his features falling away into a blankness that Chris hated. “You’re— awake?”

“Not sure how infection is spread here, but it looks like it’s not the bite,” Chris told him. The kid’s grip tightened around his fingers and Chris looked down to where they were joined and was sure that if Leon weren’t wearing gloves, he’d seen white knuckles. “Gonna consider myself lucky,” he continued softly, going easy on the poor guy because he looked like he was about to throw up. And he’d been saying something so awful— “You handled it well, kid.”

Somehow, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Leon tore his hand out of Chris’s grip and stood quickly, bringing Chris back to full awareness. He was on one of the cots in the back of the break room where Leon had pulled up a chair to sit beside him. Chris’s bite was wrapped and the bandage around his bicep was mostly clean, save a blossoming of red that wasn’t growing. The wrap itself was careful and efficient, a testament to Leon’s first aid skills. The kid wasn’t a medic, but he was precise, and Chris could appreciate that. 

“I disinfected it,” Leon told him, voice tight and guarded. “It’s clotting. You’re— going to be okay?”

The last part was more of a question than a statement. “I freaked,” Chris told him, feeling young and sheepish with the confession. “Sorry— believe it or not, I’m not actually that much better than you at all of this shit. Pretty sure the end of the world needs to be entrusted to people with a little more experience.”

Something odd came over Leon’s face. “How old are you?” he asked. Then some color returned to showcase the shame Leon felt at the question as he quickly added, “Sir.”

Chris felt bad for the kid and even worse for the way he’d built himself up to be. “Twenty-five,” he told Leon gently, waiting for some sort of bitter fallout. Chris had been all talk in the beginning, and yet he was barely an adult himself. He’d had no reason to assert superiority regardless of the chain of command. 

But Leon didn’t get angry or anything— if anything, he only looked _worse._ “I’m so sorry,” Leon said. “You shouldn’t be seeing any of this.”

This kid was going to be the death of him. Chris sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the cot. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” he returned, feeling like they could afford this moment of private questioning. He was sure Leon had barricaded them inside; there was no way he’d be this “relaxed” if he hadn’t.

“Twenty-one,” was Leon’s quiet response. 

That was—

He was right. Leon really was going to be the death of him. “Looks like we were both royally fucked over by this one, huh?” Leon grimaced, then nodded haltingly. Chris sighed and tried to stand, pleased when there was no pain, no flu-like groaning in his muscles. It really had just been a panic attack. He hoped Leon didn’t think him lesser for it. For a moment, Chris really had thought he was going to turn. “You’re a good shot for being twenty-one,” he commented idly, wanting the heaviness surrounding them to die. “Good at first aid, too.”

“I thought you were dying.”

Chris clenched his jaw and turned his attention to Leon, who was standing in the middle of the room and looking very small. His shoulders were hunched and his eyes were on the floor. His hair was covering his face and Chris was reminded of children that had survived beyond their parents in tragic accidents. 

“I’m so tired of being scared,” Leon confessed in a whisper. “But I know that being scared is what’s keeping me alive.”

Chris nodded, unable to disagree yet knowing there was a limit. Being scared was keeping their senses sharp, But for how long? He knew that adrenaline and self-preservation didn’t last forever, especially in the face of burgeoning exhaustion. Eventually, they’d both slip up. Chris had already made his first mistake and it had nearly cost Leon his life. Soon, both of them were going to fuck up, and that’d be the end of it. Neither would be able to recover the other if they weren’t able to get some sort of reprieve from this constant state of stress. Chris just prayed Leon would be able to survive however bad it got and be the one to get the fuck out of this city and never look back.

“I know my word isn’t worth much after that blunder,” Chris said. “But I’m looking out for you, Leon.”

Those bright eyes shot up to bore into Chris like they could see into his soul. Chris’s breath caught from the severity of the gaze and the way Leon was looking at him, flayed alive and hurting. “I thought you were dying,” Leon repeated. “If I’m the one bringing you down—”

“It was my job to watch the gate,” Chris interrupted unapologetically. “I was supposed to have my sights up while you worked, that was all on me.” He swallowed hard, remembering those three seconds with perfect clarity. “She was going for your throat, Leon,” he said, hating how his voice cracked a little at the end, but feeling like Leon deserved to see some emotion from him. “I wasn’t about to let my mistake cost you your life. An arm is better than a jugular, right? And it’s not even my dominant hand. I’ll be fine.”

“But you weren’t breathing right.”

“I had a panic attack,” Chris admitted with a wince, feeling even more foolish for it. “I just— back in Spencer Mansion, it looked like the infection was spread with a bite. I’d thought I was going to turn. Thought I was going to turn _on you._ ” It felt like giving too much away to say it like that, but it was the truth Leon deserved to hear. “I’m okay now,” he promised. “I’m through it. You did a good job with taking care of me and I— I’m proud of you.”

Something contorted Leon’s youthful face, something agonized that Chris wished he could wipe away. He ran through the methods he knew of— whenever Claire looked like this, Chris would always go in for a hug. He knew it meant she was suffering from something she felt like she couldn’t express in words and Chris didn’t always need words to fix the problem. But Leon had been so stiff from the last time Chris had hugged the kid— a gut action that had been more for Chris than Leon— and he was worried of exacerbating whatever was wrong with touching this poor kid without warning. So Chris just stood and reached out with his good arm, letting Leon see every inch of space he covered before laying his hand on Leon’s shoulder, just at the collarbone, near the beginning of the strong muscles of his neck. Jesus, the kid was pretty beefed up for someone his age. Rigorous training was an understatement. 

“You did good,” Chris said. “You handled that better than most people I know would ever manage. You made the shot, used a tourniquet for safety, got me up and isolated, and then did everything right from there. You’re a god damn good cop, Leon S. Kennedy. You and I are going to survive this.” That was the only part of his statement he hadn’t believed, but by god, he wasn’t going to let Leon be afraid for much longer, one way or the other. “Stay with me,” he pleaded. “I need you with me on this.”

Leon— looked so fucked up. He looked fragile in a way that had every protective instinct in Chris’s body telling him that they could just hole up here and wait out the end of the world, surviving on whatever they could scavenge and one another company. For a moment, that didn’t seem like that bad of an option. The break room was secure and had beds, Leon would be able to finally let go of that constant adrenaline, they’d have clearer heads by the end of it, and no one would be able to blame them for making the safe decision. The station was nigh empty, what was the harm in just hunkering down and laying low? But that— wasn’t an option, not with Claire out there. And even if Chris was confident she’d be fine, he couldn’t guarantee their safety either, not here, not in the zombie apocalypse. They needed to leave regardless of how badly Chris wanted to roll Leon up in a woobie and shelter him from everything. 

“Stay with me, Leon,” Chris repeated, holding firm to Leon’s shoulder, pressing his thumb into the warm body in his grip. For a moment, Leon sagged into the touch, that agony ebbing away. Then Leon was righting himself and standing firm, hand straying for his firearm at his side like he was seeing an enemy in front of him at this very moment.

Chris _hated_ what Umbrella had forced Leon to become. 

“On you, Sir,” Leon murmured in the quiet of the break room. It seemed like he was ready to get moving, ready to head for that clocktower and grab the last power panel part so they could leave, as ordered by that lovely FBI asshole. 

Chris stretched his bad shoulder and finally let his hand fall away from Leon. “We’ve been through this place already,” he told Leon. “It’s nothing we can’t handle. I fucked up, but one of my best qualities is that I learn from my mistakes.” He’d already nearly gotten Leon killed and yet Leon still showed such unwavering faith in him. It wasn’t fair. Leon’s promise to Lt. Branagh echoed in Chris’s head. He shuddered out a breath. “I won’t let you down, Leon.”

Leon blinked rapidly and didn’t break their gaze. “You couldn’t if you tried, Sir.”

Chris wasn’t so sure about that, but he gave Leon a firm nod and looked to the exit. “Let’s get moving,” he ordered. “The end of the world waits for no man, and I think I’ve delayed us enough.” He swore to himself he wouldn’t fuck up like that again, wouldn’t put Leon at such a risk without having his full attention on anything that could hurt the kid. He wouldn’t— he just fucking wouldn’t. It would be one thing if Leon Kennedy fell victim to Umbrella. It would be another if it was Chris’s fucking fault.

He would never forgive himself. 

“Heading out,” Chris said, forcing himself past the sliver of panic threatening to constrict his chest again. “We’re going to be okay.”

Leon didn’t say anything. He just waited for Chris to stride past him, and then was on Chris’s heals like a guard dog.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this ended up being 16k
> 
> #whoops
> 
> thanks for your patience! my mother came to visit and it's always nice to see her considering we live around 1700 miles apart :P i'm back in the saddle again and i've actually figured out where to cut the chaps! but that does mean they may end up being longer than the 10k i predicted earlier sorry DX i've decided it's gonna end where it needs to end and fuck all to the WC but i hope the lengthy chapters aren't annoying or a turn off! 
> 
> and on that note, i'm still trying to figure out what fucking band Leon's listening to in his jeep from the re2make and i'm honestly just set to give up at this point and name a random melodic death metal band because Leon has *taste* choice in music and i fucking love it way to somehow make me fall in love with this disaster more Capcom it's honestly getting ridiculous at this point like first Nero then Leon tenfold? i can't survive this i'm only human please
> 
> edit: **APPARENTLY AN ENTIRE FUCKING PAGE GOT CUT OUT OF THE DOC AND IT'S JUST GONE SO LOOK AT ME FIXING THIS DISASTER MY BAD**

“Alright,” Chris said as he failed to push the bookshelf after his fifth attempt that had been full of grunting. “So it looks like I can’t brute force my way past this. Maybe brawn really isn’t the cure all like I once thought it was, huh?”

Chris grinned back at him, but Leon didn’t have it in him to return the smile. His eyes kept straying to the bandages around Chris’s bare arm, where Leon had been forced to cut off the sleeve of his military wooly so he could get to the wound and stop the bleeding and disinfect and do everything he could to try and fix it, because Chris hadn’t been breathing right and Leon— had never felt so fucking helpless before.

He’d felt helpless countless times, of course, he’d felt helpless more often than anything in his life. Surrounded by shattered glass, hiding on the fire escape and considering the risk of jumping, wanting to never leave school because he was terrified to go home. Leon was intimate with helplessness, and yet none of that even compared to how he’d felt while holding Chris’s arm in his hands, feeling the man tremble, listening to him gasp for breath, and being unable to do _anything_ to help him. Leon had felt so useless, so fucking and absolutely _useless_ and Chris hadn’t been able to convince Leon that he wasn’t useless because he’d been barely conscious. Now Chris was insisting he was fine, that it was just some panic attack, but Leon—

No, he believed Chris. He believed it was a panic attack. He just didn’t know what could have brought it on. Leon was loath to tell Chris of the bite he’d already received while in the precinct, the wound on his neck that he barely noticed anymore. It was honestly so far from his thoughts that he’d never even considered being worried about it. But Chris had reacted so badly to being bit— maybe Leon was missing something. Maybe he should be a lot more scared. Maybe he should _tell_ Chris.

Except he wouldn’t, because that could only make things worse. Chris wouldn’t be any better off in knowing. Chris had also mentioned he’d been worried the infection would spread through the bite, which implied that it had before, specifically in the Spencer Mansion. Leon wondered why it was different now. Maybe the strains were two different kinds, or maybe the circumstances had changed? Maybe— 

Well, the Spencer Mansion had been destroyed. Maybe whatever had caused that disaster wasn’t the same as what was being used here. Maybe they were two different types of zombie apocalypses entirely. How did it spread? Honestly, the more Leon thought about it, the more he realized Lt. Branagh hadn’t been dying from a bite, but from blood loss itself. He would die naturally. And as far as Leon could tell, no one had succumbed to just a _bite._ Everyone died and then was revived. It wasn’t like the movies, Leon knew that much. He wouldn’t have been around for Chris to find him if it were.

There was so much Leon didn’t know and so much he wanted to find out. The longer he survived, the more he yearned for someone to blame, a face or a name or even just some vague image, someone to push his pain onto and _hate._ Hate wasn’t something Leon felt easily, but after all of the suffering he’d witnessed, after watching Chris quake beneath the fear of being bitten, Leon wished he could hate something. He wished he could project that terror he’d felt when watching Chris shake into something useful, something conducive, a goal to achieve or a person to hate and take revenge on. He wanted someone to _hurt_ for how Chris had fallen apart, but there was nothing. He knew nothing. Leon knew nothing and he was fucking _useless._

“What do you think?” Chris asked, tearing Leon from his head. “Think we can find something around the station?”

Leon forced his thoughts to the task at hand, going over every corner he’d searched. “The only place I haven’t been is the clocktower and around there and that upper level that’s blocked off by the helicopter.”

Chris nodded, squinting a little in thought. “We should take care of that helicopter, then,” he decided for them both. “It’s the fire, right? There’s a sprinkler system on the outside on all levels, I’m sure we can get that fire down to something passable. Then we can search out that level and see what it could have for us. Maybe we’ll find a radio or something that’s actually functioning.”

Leon doubted it. Lt. Branagh would have mentioned a radio. Speaking of which, Leon noticed that Chris had carefully led him into the library the long way, avoiding the main hall like the plague. Chris knew what they would find just as well as Leon did, and honestly? Leon was okay with putting it off for a little while longer. Chris’s arm was still bleeding a little if he turned the wrong way, and Leon could see the pinch in Chris’s face whenever he overextended. God, the man was only twenty-five years old and he was bearing the suffering so well. 

Leon wished he could be more like him. He absolutely saw why Claire was ready to brave an apocalypse for him. Leon was sure he’d face down a horde and those Lickers and ten more of that monster he’d fought in the machinery room— and then some— if it meant he could save Chris or even just help him in a minuscule way. It was pathetic, but Leon didn’t care. When Leon had been young, he’d thought of the kind of person he’d follow to the end of the earth. Chris fit the bill almost perfectly.

“Let’s get moving,” Chris said, sighing in disappointment. He’d been really eager to push those bookcases after Leon had told him they wouldn’t budge, almost like Chris had been excited to show off. Honestly, Leon didn’t blame him— the man had some fucking muscles packed on like a marble sculpture and Leon would show off too if he looked half as good. 

Now Chris was walking away, and Leon couldn’t fight away that paranoid nervousness that had overcome him moments before Chris had been bit. Leon couldn’t explain it— he’d thought it would come to some fruition after Chris’s injury, the paranoia being proven to have legitimacy and then bleeding into heightened anxiety, but no such luck. It was almost like Leon’s nerves were telling him there was something else to be afraid of, something that hadn’t been some bad feeling about Chris getting hurt. Leon wasn’t superstitious, but he had— he’d experienced enough to know when he needed to be on edge. He’d thought maybe just the entire zombie apocalypse would cover that, but apparently not. His brain was telling him to be afraid of something and he didn’t know what.

It was probably the thing that had killed Ben.

That huge hand, gray and bigger than Leon’s head, strong enough to crush a human skull with a flex of the fingers. It reminded Leon so much of—

“This way,” Chris order, leading Leon along, avoiding the main hall with the same quiet stubbornness. It was almost nice to know Chris wanted to keep Leon from whatever had happened, but at the same time—

“This is the long way around,” Leon told him gently, wanting Chris to know that he’d caught on ages ago. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but at this rate we’re only putting ourselves more at risk. That’s the last thing we should be doing, especially with your injury.” His throat closed up when Chris’s eyes hardened. “Sir.”

Leon waited for it— the fallout, the shouting, the anger. Something harsh and cruel and familiar enough for Leon to finally manage to put some distance between himself and Chris Redfield. The man was already meaning so much to him that a cold sliver of fear ran through Leon every time they made eye contact and something _worse_ edged its way into his chest. Leon wanted to not like Chris. He _needed_ to not like Chris. Or something close. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to be somewhat attached, but Chris talked about hidden conspiracies and evil villains and how he didn’t want Leon to be a part of any of it. No matter what happened, Chris Redfield was going to leave Leon behind eventually.

That was a sobering thought.

“We need to be efficient,” he told Chris, feeling something in his chest sink as he realized this man that he’d come to admire was purely temporary and Leon would be alone again in a few hours as a best case scenario. Survival was supposed to be appealing, wasn’t it? Then why was Leon more afraid of facing the nightmares that would come from surviving alone than the idea of dying with Chris somewhere nearby? “We need to go through the main hall.”

Chris looked upset. “What if I’d rather not?” Chris asked, beating around the truth like he thought Leon was stupid. “I’m not doing this for you.”

Now that— that was a bold faced lie. Every time Chris had laid down the plan that avoided the main hall, he would cut his eyes to Leon like he was trying to see if Leon was catching on. He was absolutely doing this for Leon and it was kind of him, it really was, but Leon was starting to feel a little sick from the anxiety of what was going to come after Raccoon City and he would rather just get this over with.

“Bite the bullet with me,” Leon pleaded softly. “We can’t afford to waste time.”

Chris grimaced and Leon wished he’d grown up with someone who cared about him as much as Chris acted like he had. Even if it had been a tiny moment in his life, a passing flame, a friend he only knew for a month or a boy that he’d had a crush on who hadn’t thought he was strange for the frequent nosebleeds, Leon knew that he would have gotten so much good from it. “You know I’m right, Sir,” he pressed. “It doesn’t matter who you’re doing this for— if it’s for me, then stop. If it’s for you, then I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to be strong. We need to be quick about this. Whatever killed Ben back in those cells is still in here with us, and we can’t afford to get caught by it.”

Chris sighed raggedly, ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. “Main hall,” he said. “Then up to explore that area you haven’t checked. And then we’re out of here.”

Leon’s throat was tight. “Yessir.”

They didn’t speak from there, Chris leading and Leon trying to keep his head on straight. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped or been insubordinate. He hoped Chris didn’t think he was trying to imply Chris wasn’t strong or a good leader or, or _something._ He hoped Chris knew he still trusted him to make the best decision. Leon just— really didn’t want to put anything off just for the sake of one less awful memory.

Except—

Oh god, Chris had worked here for two years.

Leon, for all of his empathy, barely knew any of these people. If he were faced with a horde, he could count on his hand the number of faces he’d recognized, but it wasn’t the same for Chris. Chris Redfield had lived and worked in this city for two entire years and he had been beneath the S.T.A.R.S. badge, meaning he’d been within the community. And Leon knew he was active, the man was too put together and confident not to be, so Chris knew this city, _his_ city. Leon was fighting his way through a ruined town. Chris was fighting his way through his _home._

He wondered how many of his friends Chris had been forced to put down tonight. How many silent goodbyes Chris had said to himself, how many friends he’d lost. Jesus Christ, what if Chris couldn’t bear the thought of having to put down another? What if he really was avoiding the main hall for his own sanity?

How could Leon be so selfish?

The warm glow of the main hall failed to be a comfort. Leon felt almost in a daze from his startling realization. He should have let Chris continue to avoid this place, he shouldn’t have pushed, why was he such a heartless asshole? God, god, Chris was only twenty-five and he’d had to kill so many of his friends and now Leon was going to make him kill another and—

Chris was in front when Marvin Branagh, dead yet still walking, came from around the curtain that was sectioning off the front desk, and stumbled towards them with arms out, jaw unhinged, searching for flesh to sink his teeth into. Chris stood strong and lifted his firearm and Leon—

There was a loud bang, the discharge of a weapon, and Marvin Branagh was dead again, but the way Chris whipped around and stared at Leon in horror told Leon that Chris hadn’t been the one to take the shot. The smoking gun was in Leon’s hand, literally, and even though this distant part of Leon ached for having to be the one to end Marvin Branagh for good, he was so fucking happy that it wasn’t Chris. 

“I don’t want you to have to kill another friend,” Leon blurted out, feeling like he couldn’t say anything but the truth. When Chris’s horror seeped away into something hollow, Leon knew that he’d made the right decision despite the hurt he’d taken on for himself. “I’m sorry,” he added reflexively. “I just— it seemed like it was my turn.”

Chris, oddly enough, didn’t say anything. He only gave Leon a stiff nod and looked back to where Mavin Branagh was crumbled on the floor. “When I first joined S.T.A.R.S.,” he began to tell Leon. “I remember thinking that it was going to be a bitch and a half to work with cops. Back in the Air Force, MPs were always sectioning themselves off from us like they thought they were a different entity. I was worried that it’d be a lot of the same for when I came here, since S.T.A.R.S. and RPD don’t exactly work together or see eye to eye, from what I’d heard. That was all probably due to Irons, if I’m honest, because the first person to greet me that wasn’t on my team was Marvin Branagh. And you know what he did?”

Leon shook his head, unable to guess. He thought of the streamers and the banners that had been hanging in what would have been his office, the puzzle that had been set up for his desk. The way the directions had been written for him, a kind of fondness that felt more like a brotherhood than a job. Leon— wished he could have arrived to normal day. If only to experience what it felt like to be _welcomed._

“He gave me a fucking mug,” Chris said with this small, sad grin as he looked at Marvin’s corpse. “It had this little cop car on it and the words ‘I Like Big Busts and I Cannot Lie.’ And I brought that mug home and it’s probably my favorite fucking mug, because I had come into this new, terrifying environment that lacked all of the order I’d grown used to in the military, and here was this man that was able to make me feel like I had a home in a place I’d barely been in for an hour.” Chris shook his head, lips tight like he was trying to keep his emotions under control.

They were both quiet. 

Then, Chris shifted his weight and said, “Calling 1-3, 1-3… 1-3, do you copy? This is last call for for radio number 1-3. No response from Lieutenant Marvin Branagh.” Leon had to look away as Chris recited Lt. Branagh’s last call. His eyes burned. “Radio number 1-3 is out of service after twenty-four years and three months of service. Although you are gone, you will never be forgotten.” Leon watched Chris’s throat bob as he swallowed hard. Chris’s eyes were glinting in the light too. “Rest in peace, our friend,” Chris finished in a whisper. “Time is… who the fuck knows. Because you died in hell and it’s still hell and you didn’t deserve this, but I promise you, Marvin, those orders you gave me? I’m going to make it happen. You can count on me.”

Leon didn’t know what orders Lt. Branagh had given Chris and he felt like it wasn’t within his right to ask. He almost felt like he wasn’t allowed to say anything until Chris gave him a nod. Leon breathed shakily. He looked to the corpse and the weight of his gun in his hand felt like the weight of the world in Atlas’s arms. “Thank you,” he choked out. “When I came in here, I was— lost. And alone. And afraid. Thank you for continuing to be my Lieutenant and taking care of me, even when you knew you weren’t going to live. Thank you for being a good cop and a better man. Just… Thank you.”

It didn’t feel like enough. Leon knew nothing he could say would feel like enough. There was another moment of silence between them both before Chris cleared his throat and bent down to scoop up Marvin Branagh’s body and lay him back down on that sofa. Leon quickly tore down the curtain and laid it over the body. That was the best they could do for him, and it would never fucking be enough.

“Okay,” Chris said once the deed was done and neither of them felt any better for it. “Let’s get moving.” Leon watched the other man pull on a brave face and wished he was more like Chris. “That fire was what kept you from getting into that level, right? Like I said, I think I know how to fix it.”

He began a brisk pace and Leon was left with a few seconds alone with Marvin Branagh’s body. “I’m sorry for shooting you,” he murmured to the corpse. “I just hope you know why I had to do it.” Leon tried to put on a brave face of his own and followed after Chris Redfield.

. . .

“It’s just a ladder,” Chris huffed as he descended first because he was a bossy guy and he just didn’t like the idea of Leon going first for a lot of this shit. It was considerate, sure, but Leon didn’t like the looks of this ladder and it creaked tellingly beneath the weight of Chris’s body. “Didn’t you ever learn how to take turns?”

Leon grimaced as he kept his flashlight on the roof below, making sure nothing was there that could grab Chris once he made it to the bottom even though visibility was rather high with the fire of the helicopter below. “Pretty sure taking turns would be me going first, then you going first, then me, then you. What you’re doing is the opposite of taking turns. You’re just being that greedy kid snatching all the crayons that aren’t broken.” Was that rude? “Sir.”

He heard Chris snort a laugh as the man jumped the last few pegs and landed solidly on the roof below. “I personally preferred the markers,” he told Leon, raising his voice to be heard as he also scoped out the roof and found the same amount of nothing. “I liked how permanent they felt. I also liked drawing on my arms and hands more than the paper.” Chris paused for a moment. “Don’t come down yet.”

Leon sighed heavily, then winced, hoping Chris hadn’t heard. He didn’t want to sound like a petulant child. 

“I think I know what’s wrong?” Chris said haltingly as he looked at some lever that Leon was half tempted to break off and try to use with the bookcases down below. “But I’m not exactly sure. We can get to the water system down in the shed below, that’ll probably help.” Leon watched Chris’s flashlight follow the line of the thick white pipes. “What about you?”

Leon perked up a little, wondering if Chris was asking for his help. “I’m sure we can find something there, yeah.”

“No, I mean— crayons or markers?”

Neither. Leon hadn’t been given toys like that at home and he’d been scared to touch anything that wasn’t his in preschool. Stamps were a no-go too, as was anything that was recognizable from his own home as off limits. But— “I liked finger painting.” 

He watched Chris turn away from the pipes to smile brightly up at him. “Get messy, make mistakes, right?” Chris looked pleased with Leon’s answer. “I’ll bet you were great at it.”

Hardly.

“Can I come down now?”

Chris nodded and went back to the ladder, shining his light on the slippery pegs. “Be careful!” he called out. “Seemed a little wobbly when I went down.”

Leon rolled his eyes to himself because he knew how to fucking climb down a ladder in the rain. He turned and put his foot to the first rung and ignored the groan of the metal. He tried to go quickly, one foot below the other, and Chris shining his light on Leon like he thought that was helping, but his quickness proved to be his downfall. The metal cracked and then _screamed_ and the ladder pulled back from its hinges on the wall. Leon cried out in surprise as he was swung out into nothing, holding on for dear life as the ladder began to fall. The last of the hinges pulled away and Leon braced for impact as free fall sent his heart into his throat and he plummeted to the hard roof below. He hoped he wouldn’t break a rib.

“Got you!”

Leon’s back hit a warm mass of something instead of the concrete and strong arms wrapped around his torso as gravity and momentum brought him down hard atop Chris. The man grunted harshly in his ear as Leon crushed him beneath his weight, the body armor likely going to leave some awful bruises in the worst places. They both slammed into the ground and Leon immediately rolled off of Chris, brow knit with concern, fumbling to lift the man’s wooly to try and see if he’d broken anything instead of Leon. His eyes kept going to the bandage around Chris’s arm, searching for signs of fresh blood. 

“Hey, hey, Leon, jesus.”

Chris’s hands took Leon’s by the wrists before he could get Chris’s wooly above his hips, just the barest sliver of the skin of his stomach exposed to Leon’s searching eyes. “I need you to talk to me,” Chris beckoned, barely audible past the roaring in Leon’s ears. Realization dawned slowly. Chris had caught him. _Chris had caught him._ “You barely made a fucking sound, are you hurt?”

Leon stared at where Chris’s large hands were wrapped around his wrists and wondered if Chris knew that he could snap the fragile bones with a twist. “I’m fine,” he finally got out. “I just— are you okay?”

Chris shook his head and let go of Leon. “I’ve had worse,” he said. “You’re not that heavy, Leon.” Chris stood and shook out his arms like he was sore, then offered Leon a hand, who was still on the ground, on his knees, still in some sort of shock. _Chris had caught him._ “Come on,” he beckoned. “If you’re not hurt, then we need to get moving.”

Leon accepted the hand but didn’t let the touch linger. He checked over Matilda and the shotgun, told himself he was okay, and then turned to the task at hand.

Chris did know how to fix that fire— apparently, shit was broken as fuck and Chris could redirect water from a small station on the ground level. “I’d thought we were going to have to fashion our own hose from it,” Chris said with a layer of near chipperness that had been clinging to the man since he’d seen the twisted and mangled pipes just above the burning craft. “This’ll be a cake walk, Kennedy, mark my words.”

The optimism fell flat in Leon’s thoughts. His instincts were still haywire and insisting that a monster was hiding behind his door and that he needed to hide before a bottle shattered above his head, and that fall definitely hadn’t helped. “I think we should be careful,” Leon suggested as he fired one last shot into one of the two zombies that had burst from the water maintenance room down beneath the stairs. When Chris frowned at him, Leon winced. “I’ve got a bad feeling, Sir.”

“And last time you had a bad feeling, was…”

When Chris trailed off with his question, Leon glanced down at the bandage around Chris’s arm. Understanding came over the man’s face. “We are being careful,” he told Leon as they went into the water room that was really a glorified shed. Leon swept his sights and saw a leg bone stuffed inside a clean shoe beneath a work bench, and nothing more out of the ordinary than that. “We’re going slow and we’re being smart. This is as careful as we can get. Just trust me, alright? I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Leon wished it were that simple. Chris went up to a huge fucking lever and yanked it down with ease, his bicep flexing as he grinned like a boy. Leon’s heart hammered in his chest and he tore his eyes away, looking to a back door they hadn’t checked. He kicked it open and found nothing inside except for a handful of shotgun shells and was scared to turn around and see Chris wearing that same grin that made him feel like he was going to be burned from the inside out.

“Found some ammo,” he told Chris without looking back. 

“Good job!” Chris called out. “We should head up and pull that other lever, get that water flowing. Then we can find out what’s back there.”

“Do you think that thing will show up?” Leon asked. “Whatever killed Ben.”

“We can’t worry about it right now. We just need to get the keycard and get out of here.”

Leon really, really felt like they should be worrying about it. Every fucking cell in his body was telling him to worry about it. 

“On me, Kennedy.”

Leon clenched his jaw and turned and was relieved to see the grin absent from Chris’s face. He wondered why Chris felt like smiling at a time like this was necessary. He couldn’t _actually_ feel up to smiling by his own rights, could he? Was he doing it for Leon, to help reassure him? It would make sense. Could be part of that big brother instinct Leon had observed in others throughout his life. He wondered if Claire felt the same safety around Chris that Leon felt, or if it was a different kind because he was sure Chris wouldn’t normally have a gun when watching out for Claire. Or maybe he would? What was the state of Chris’s family? What if he was some sort of—

“Leon.”

The sharp call of his name was startling. Leon fucking Kennedy, _pay attention._

“It’s a really bad feeling, Sir,” Leon murmured, settling with a lie. 

Chris shook his head. “Bad feelings have to be ignored when it comes to completing the mission,” he said sternly. “Look, I’ve tried to be patient, and I know this has to be difficult, but if you’re gonna keep slipping into your thoughts like this—”

Leon felt _sick._ Chris had noticed his lapses in attention, his lapses in association, Chris had fucking noticed and that meant that Leon was putting them both at risk. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? How could he be so careless? “I’m sorry,” he said uselessly, feeling like he was going to start shaking, but that would be even worse, wouldn’t it? Then Chris wouldn’t be able to trust Leon’s ability to function and use his weapon and then Leon would become a genuine liability and he’d be forced to leave Leon behind. God, god, god, he needed to _get it together._ “I’m sorry,” he said again. “It’s just—”

When he couldn’t continue, there was silence. Oppressive, anxiety-inducing silence. It was a silence Leon knew well. The doctor realizing he wouldn’t say a word, the teacher realizing she couldn’t get him to get help, the tentative friend that realized he wouldn’t run away so he wasn’t worth the effort. The silence of someone giving up on him. Leon braced himself as—

A hand rested on the back of his neck, gripping tight, no intention to hurt, only to hold. Leon swallowed down the panic and forced himself to be strong, to look up and meet Chris’s eyes, expecting disdain or disappointment and finding only sadness. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris said, shocking Leon. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Chris may as well have been speaking another language. 

“We’re safe now,” Chris told him, his voice so fucking gentle, reminding Leon of someone he couldn’t name, another kind voice from so long ago that he wasn’t even sure if it was a real memory. “Nothing’s coming through that door— can I touch you?”

Leon looked owlishly to the arm that was leading from Chris to Leon and figured that the question was a little late. When Chris didn’t redact the request or back down, though, Leon could only nod jerkily, unsure what the request even entailed. When Chris stepped forward, both arms coming out and his expression so unreadable, Leon flinched. Badly. A full-bodied quake of his being, his own arms reflexively coming forward to shield his chest and internal organs and all those vulnerable parts of himself that would hurt the worst from the toe of a boot or a fist or a blade. His flinch had Chris faltering and giving too much away. When he was able to meet Chris’s gaze again, the man was no longer unreadable— he looked heartbroken. 

“Jesus, Leon,” Chris said before taking the last two steps forward and wrapping two strong, thick arms around Leon’s neck. He held on fast and kept Leon close, almost sheltered in his embrace and _warm_ , so unmistakably warm that he made Leon realize he’d been cold this whole time without knowing. Leon stood stiffly in Chris’s arms and focused on breathing and— it was a lot easier to keep his breathing under control if he matched it to the rise and fall he could feel in Chris’s lungs through Leon’s bulletproof vest. Leon zeroed in on his breath, on the give and take, the steady rhythm, and told himself it was okay. Chris wasn’t going to hurt him. This was— 

This felt _good_ and he shouldn’t be afraid of it.

Leon forced himself to sink into it, every inch of give feeling like a war. When he’d been with women, it hadn’t been hard to let them touch him. Even his own mother hadn’t been like the girls he’d tried to date. But a man like Chris, a man that was solid and bigger than him and too much like— it was near impossible on even his best days. And yet here Leon was, on one of the worst days in his whole fucking life, finally giving in and letting someone bigger than him touch and he didn’t have the urge to run and hide. Even in the midst of this hell on earth, Leon couldn’t help but feel that something inside of himself was— somehow repairing? And he didn’t know what, but it was happening regardless.

Chris was holding him so close and it felt so fucking safe in this stupid way that Leon knew was dangerous and he just— wanted. So he brought his own arms up around Chris’s back and tangled his fingers in the soft fabric of Chris’s wooly along the man’s spine, letting himself have this, if only for this one night. After this, after Raccoon City, Chris would be with Claire and delving into that world of danger and Leon would be left behind. But for now, Leon had this; his hands on Chris’s back, the man’s breath in his ear, against his chest, beneath his palms, and for a moment, peace.

Then Chris was patting his back a little abruptly and pulling away. Now that Leon had let himself take, he didn’t want to let it go. But they were in hell and they had a job to do. 

“I need you to stay with me, Leon,” Chris told him, hands still on Leon’s shoulders, not putting more distance between them than necessary. “If you have to retreat somewhere into your head, that’s okay, just try to give me some sort of warning. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Your abilities are well beyond anything that I would expect from a rookie cop, but even I know that what we’re going through right now would be a test for the most seasoned soldier’s abilities. It’s okay if you feel like you’re going to break. Just let me know so I can get us out of harm’s way.”

An unfeasible request, an impossible expectation. Chris knew as well as Leon did that giving a simple warning wouldn’t save them, but he was extending the offer anyways because he didn’t want Leon to feel bad. 

“I won’t let it happen again, Sir,” Leon swore instead, knowing he would do his best to make good on the promise. “I’ll keep it together. I swear, I have your back.”

Chris looked sorry. “I know you do,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re with me, Leon. I’ve got three people in this world that I would trust to have my back, and you’re the newest addition, making four. Don’t sell yourself short.” He gave Leon one last clap on the shoulder and sent him another of those boyish grins. “On me?”

Leon breathed easy as they slipped back into familiar territory. He unslung the shotgun and reloaded the barrels as he said, “On you.”

Chris nodded and headed out quickly, back into the rain. The likelihood of anything being out there to meet them was slim to none, but being on high alert was necessary regardless. They’d be heading into new territory and anything could happen. That awful feeling wasn’t going away. Leon felt cold all the worse now that he knew the warmth of Chris’s touch and could miss it.

They ascended the stairs and faced the fire again, Leon feeling pity again for the people who had been trapped inside. Hopefully death had been quick. Chris went to the large lever that apparently switched the directions of the water flow, pulled it up, then pulled it down. Leon watched as the water gushed from the broken pipes above the fallen, smoldering helicopter and killed the flames, the light and heat that had been coming from the crash shrinking into nothing. Now there was new territory for Leon to check and he was nervous about bringing Chris with him. He didn’t like being alone, but it felt easier since he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else. 

“I’ll go first,” he told Chris, trying to make up for his failures in the past and at least making sure he didn’t have to worry about Chris while scoping everything out. “Let me check it out first.”

Chris grunted out this unhappy noise, but surprisingly, he didn’t argue. Leon watched the gears turn in the man’s head and saw the moment Chris decided that there couldn’t possibly be anything worse behind that helicopter than what they’d already seen, all of which Leon had proved he could handle. He was going to say yes probably because he felt sorry for Leon. Leon would take the pity favor if it meant he would be the one going down that hallway first. 

“Go for it,” Chris said. “I can give you directions if you’re lost, but I honestly hardly ever went this high up in the precinct. I know the general layout and where we can look for shit, but other than that, I’m a little lost as well.”

Leon took the excuse wholeheartedly and moved to stand in front of Chris, feeling much better about being the frontline. He knew what he was doing, knew the hand signs and the protocol, he knew how to keep Chris safe like Chris had done for him. Leon pushed open the door that led into the hallway he’d yet to explore and cleared it first before stepping quietly inside. The reprieve from the rain was a blessing and Leon fought back a shiver. He almost wished he could ask for a hug from Chris, if only to warm him up.

Leon rounded the corner of the hall and saw the ruined remains of the helicopter tail was blocking their way inward. He approached it slowly, looking at all of the weak points that could be used to lift the thing out of the way, wondered if they had structural damage to the building that they needed to worry about, asked himself if there were Lickers or zombies behind the wreckage. A million possibilities swam through his thoughts before he’d even gotten past the wreckage itself. 

“Hey,” Chris whispered from behind him. It was weird to have Chris there rather than in front, but he was still a solid reassurance that Leon wouldn’t give up for anything at this point. “Bet you a cup of coffee I can lift that with one arm”

Leon was about to crack a joke back, some sort of tease about Chris wanting to show off for some girl that didn’t exist, that it was only Leon here, but there was more of that awful sound of metal tearing and bending and screaming like form the ladder before. Leon whipped the shotgun up and took aim as something— something fucking lifted the helicopter from behind and pushed it to the side like it weighed nothing. 

“Oh what the fuck,” Chris said from behind Leon as they both took in the sight of a colossal gray man wearing a black fedora and a black overcoat. He was huge, fucking nine feet tall or something else insane and his face reminded Leon of a corpse, a real one, expressionless and empty, staring up at him from a casket. It stared them down, then took a single step forward. The ground shook beneath his weight.

“That’s definitely not a cop,” Leon said almost dreamily, too shocked by what he was seeing to move. The- thing- advanced quickly and Leon stared up at it, a million horrible memories flashing through his mind, making him feel small and weak and young again and Chris was yelling something, pulling at Leon’s vest, shouting orders, but Leon couldn’t move, and—

The huge fist slamming into his solar plexus was what broke him out of his shock. He went flying, hitting the wall on his left side and sinking to the ground while he gasped for breath, seeing stars. Leon bent over and wheezed, feeling like he could throw up his lungs. A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a figure looming above him. The smell of cigarettes and bad cologne flooded his senses and he heard a voice he never wanted to hear again as that same huge hand came down, fingers wide, ready to take him by the skull and crush him like Ben. Leon wanted to beg. He couldn’t bring it in himself to move, struggling for air. His lungs were collapsing and he was going to—

The fedora flew off the giant’s head as gunshots rang out and the thing stumbled back, going down on one knee as bullet after bullet was slugged into its mammoth body. Leon didn’t see blood, didn’t see wounds, but it acted like it could feel pain. There was hope in taking it down.

“Move it, Leon!”

The voice in his ear kicked him back into reality, and Leon forced himself to his feet, scrambling up and pulling the shotgun back around to fire a shell into the thing’s gray, dead face. His brain worked quickly, telling him that they needed to get past the giant and check out the area beyond him, so running away would only cost them precious time. He didn’t know if there was a way out if they kept going forward, but it was a risk he was going to have to take.

Something grabbed him by the vest and tugged him along, Leon looking up to see it was Chris holding on tight. The man’s face was almost as gray as the giant’s, his mouth a thin line, eyes haunted. Leon wondered if he knew what that thing was. 

Chris yanked him down the rest of the hall and in through a doorway. The shriek of a Licker greeted them and Leon wondered if things could get any worse. He strong-armed Chris, pushing the man back behind him as he fired the shotgun three times into the grotesque monster above their heads, not even giving the thing time to attack. It dropped to the floor, dead and in pieces. “We need to search this place quick,” Leon said, feeling out of his mind with his hands shaking. “Whatever that thing is is fast. Is there a way down from here?”

“We passed the fire escape,” Chris told him. “Leon, are you hurt?”

His entire body ached and he felt like curling up in a corner and crying, the lingering stench of cigarettes making him want to vomit. “I’m fine,” Leon said as he looked around the room they were in. Statues and what were likely picture frames were covered by tarps, but there was a single marble figure at the other end and—

“This,” Leon said as he picked up the lever that he recognized for moving heavy loads and, more than likely, bookshelves. “We got it, Chris.”

Chris wasn’t looking at the lever in his hand, but Leon instead. “We need more firepower.”

Leon couldn’t agree more. “There’s something in the S.T.A.R.S. office, but I couldn’t get to it,” he told Chris as he catalogued what they had and didn’t have. With this lever, they could get through that hole in the library floor and get to the clocktower. Chris could likely get to whatever was in the S.T.A.R.S. office. They had two different places to go and an evil giant straight from a horrific fairy tale hunting them with very little time. “We should split up.”

Chris clenched his jaw and shook his head, agonized. “I fucking hate that idea.”

“We have to,” Leon insisted, hating it just as much. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”

“Leon, we really shouldn’t.”

“We need more firepower to take that thing down,” Leon argued. “How many bullets did you put in that thing before it dropped?”

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “I just kept firing until it stopped. I’m out.”

“We need something stronger,” Leon insisted. “You’re out of ammo completely.” He held out the shotgun for Chris to take, mentally counting his own bullets. “You wasted everything.”

“I needed to stop it,” Chris said. “Leon, it was going to kill you.”

“I was fine,” Leon lied.

“You didn’t make a noise when it hit you,” Chris told him. “You just said ‘not again’.”

Leon’s blood ran cold. “We need to split up.”

Chris looked away, then took the shotgun. “I’ll meet you in the garage,” he said. “I swear to god, Leon, you better be there within the hour.”

“Okay,” Leon agreed. “And if anything goes wrong? You can blame it on me.”

“Leon.”

The name hung between them. Then there were footsteps, heavy and foreboding, and Leon wished the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne would leave him for good. Leon took Matilda from his side and gripped her tight, forcing himself to find comfort in it. Chris looked eviscerated and Leon wished he could say something to make him feel better. 

“God, Leon,” Chris said. “For the love of everything, be there within the hour, or I’m coming after you.”

“Same to you,” Leon told him. “You better fucking be there or I’m coming for you too.”

“Within the hour,” Chris said as the footsteps thundered. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Leon said without hesitation. 

Chris looked sickened as he cocked the shotgun and the footsteps reached the door. “We take him down and run for the fire escape,” he told Leon. “On me?”

“On you.”

The door burst open behind them and Leon and Chris turned to fire upon the giant as one. 

. . .

Being alone was a ragged existence.

Leon settled on this thought as the bell rang and pierced his ears and sense of safety. Everything that was still alive in the precinct would make a beeline for this place with the racket he was making. The bell knocked down the orange box holding the power panel part, and then the bell just collapsed completely, breaking through the wood with a crash. Leon winced. “Hope I don’t have to write a report on this,” he said to himself as he hurried back down to the lower level so he could grab the part and get the hell out of here. He hated being away from Chris even though it was his own stupid idea and just prayed that Chris was getting the same amount of luck as him. That giant hadn’t come across him since he and Chris had laid the thing down again in the hallway. The cigarettes and cologne were fading from his memory and if he told himself he’d be fine, he could almost believe it.

“Just gotta get back to the garage,” Leon said as he wedged the box next to the other one, between his belt and his hips, crushing the cardboard to make it fit. He could hear shuffling, the distant sound of something approaching, but didn’t let himself linger on the what ifs. He had the power panel parts. He needed to get back to the garage and meet up with Chris.

He didn’t even try to be careful. Leon burst through the door into the hall and made a beeline for the steps. There was a zombie or two stumbling around, but they were as slow as ever and Leon easily avoided their reach. He planned on getting back to the break room, catching his breath, and then heading back down into the garage. He couldn’t think of any dogs that would be left and he hoped Chris had beaten him to the garage because Chris had the shotgun and Leon fucking didn’t. He had two bullets left and a single flash bang that would buy him some time, but that was it. It was going to be a rough descent. He just really fucking prayed Chris was waiting for him, because Leon wasn’t sure he’d survive if he had to go back into the precinct for the man. Leon would do it regardless, of course, but he had no hope of making it out if he did.

He resolutely refused to look at Marvin Branagh’s covered body as he passed through the main hall on his way out of the precinct. There still was no guilt for having done what he did, but he felt like the absence of guilt was worse. He wondered if—

Leon quickly shook his head hard enough to make himself a little dizzy, still feeling that hit from the giant earlier. He wasn’t going to allow himself to continue the bad habit of slipping into himself and losing space and time to his thoughts. Chris had noticed and Chris knew how dangerous it was for them both. Leon needed to get it back under control before he got Chris hurt again.

He made it down into the garage quickly, meeting nothing awful on his way. Hopefully he’d shaken the giant back at the clocktower by being light on his feet. He had noticed that Chris tended to lumber around, not watching the weight of his steps or looking for weak points in the floor. He hoped Chris was being smart and trying to keep quiet. That giant could hear them from anywhere. Hopefully that didn’t extend to the underground and wherever they went from here.

When Leon got to the garage, he found it empty. And that— fucking sucked. Leon stood in stasis for a moment, chewing on his lower lip as he made a few fast decisions. Chris wasn’t here, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to show up. They still had time for him to arrive within the hour. The missing FBI Agent seemed to have a knack for showing up almost as if on cue, so she likely wouldn’t make her presence known until they had the keycard and were ready to leave. The garage was quiet and the echo of his boots weren’t bad. He could—

He could just go for it.

Leon nodded to himself, deciding it would be better to grab the keycard on his own and have it ready for when Chris arrived rather than just standing there and twiddling his thumbs. He didn’t want to disappoint Chris by wasting time in waiting for him, and it wasn’t like Leon hadn’t done a lot of shit on his own already. He could handle it. He didn’t need Chris at his back to keep him from fucking up. Leon nodded to himself again and checked over the last two bullets he had to his name. “Okay,” he said under his breath. “You can do this, Kennedy.” Damn right he could.

Sights up, Matilda at the ready, Leon jogged through the lowest level of the precinct with sharp eyes, looking for anything he and Chris could have missed in their panicked runaround. Leon picked up three stray bullets for his efforts and made it to Ben’s cell, pulling the power panel parts from their ruined boxes and pushing them into their proper places on the switch panel. When the lights didn’t immediately turn on, Leon resisted the urge to groan and readied himself for another fucking puzzle. Why were all of the direly important things in this place puzzles? It seemed like it wasn’t very conducive if someone was on a time crunch.

After a few twists of the pieces and lining up the lights that somehow could conduct power safely enough for him to touch while figuring out the puzzle, the lights went green and he heard Ben’s cell unlock. Leon grinned to himself, proud of what he’d accomplished. Chris would come down and see Leon at the ready with the keycard and he’d be so proud of him. Something like excitement bubbled in Leon’s chest as he thought about what kind of smile Chris would give him. Maybe it would be that boyish grin that made Leon feel like he was on fire. Or maybe it’d be that soft, tired smile that said he was happy he had trusted Leon even if their fight wasn’t over yet. Maybe he would—

Shit, Leon had a new problem. Instead of getting lost in his head, he was getting lost in thoughts about Chris. That— was definitely a big fucking _problem._

Leon swallowed down the anxiety of _that_ unpleasant change in his psyche and stepped carefully into Ben’s cell, avoiding the rubble and trying not to look at the man’s crushed face for too long. That single, bulbous eyeball was finally dredging up some of that guilt within Leon. He wished he could have saved this man, even if Ben had no respect for human life. So many people had died to this apocalypse and the anger was still there, boiling deep within him chest. He wanted someone to pay, he really did, he just wished he didn’t have to keep seeing people suffer. 

Leon pulled the keycard lanyard from around the man’s neck and wondered how he’d gotten his hands on it. Leon was about to pull away when he saw something. “Huh?” There, in the fold of Ben’s jacket, he saw a tape recorder. Leon frowned, remembering Agent Ada talking about how Ben had been an informant of hers and that he’d had information for her investigation. Could this be it?

Leon pulled the tape recorder from the inner pocket and hit play, figuring that he was allowed a little insubordination considering he was knee deep in the thick of this mess and he needed someone to hate. Ben’s voice filtered through, the even tone of the reporter stirring something angry in Leon’s chest. He knew Chief Irons wasn’t a saint, but wishing someone dead… Leon had been through so much, but he still couldn’t bring himself to wish death upon a person no matter what. Ben was a scumbag, but— god, he was human too. And Leon didn’t wish death on anyone.

_”But that doesn’t explain the rumors about the orphanage. I-I just find it way too coincidental that Umbrella’s one of the benefactors.”_

Leon frowned at Ben’s insinuation, then frowned even deeper when he heard an unfamiliar female voice say, _“You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up.”_

_“Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about that. They want to know about the G-Virus and the—”_

_“Where did you hear about this?”_

_“—And that big fucking sinkhole in the city which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab.”_

“Lab?” Leon repeated, brow furrowed as more pieces were added to the puzzle he wasn’t even close to solving yet.

Ben continued. _“Now, are you going to talk to me or are you—”_

_“This interview is over.”_

There was silence, the scrape of a chair’s legs on the ground and heels clicking out of range. A pause, and then Ben muttering under his breath: _“Bitch.”_

The tape ended and left Leon very, very confused. “What are they after?” he asked himself as he stood and gave Ben one last sympathetic glance before searching the cell quickly and seeing a piece of paper on the small desk filled with scribblings. He scanned it quickly, caught a few keywords that had his gut sinking. 

_It’s not the zombies I’m afraid of._

_Codename: Tyrant._

_Chances are they’ve ordered it to wipe out the witnesses._

That didn’t sound good at all. Ben had said, before he’d died, that something was coming. Maybe the gray giant was the Tyrant itself? It was the only thing Leon didn’t have a name for yet, and the only thing he could think of that Ben was referring to. God, what kind of a name was that? Tyrant. The very memory of that hand had Leon’s skin crawling with a familiar need to flee. There was a sick sort of irony in his life at the moment that he wasn’t about to analyze. He just needed to get back to the garage and back to Chris.

He had the keycard and the tape, maybe he could make both Chris and Agent Ada proud of him. The thought had him focusing his attention back at the task at hand. There was a gate to his left outside of Ben’s cell, hopefully some sort of shortcut. He saw a lever release that would likely unlock the very gate that was his escape. Leon went to the lever and pulled it without hesitation and—

The fucking cells down the hall opened along with his exit. The groans of zombies brought out of their stupor and enticed by the sounds of life filled the hall. “That’s not good,” Leon said stupidly before realizing he should get the lead out and _move._ He turned on his heel and sprinted for the gate, relief flooding through him when it opened for his frantic pulling. The undead were right behind him because there hadn’t been much distance between them in the first place. He darted through the gate and lamented the lack of a lock on the other side, heading down the hall that went around the other side of the cells and—

The gray giant threw open the door and stared Leon down with absolutely nothing in its eyes and the intent to eviscerate. 

_Chances are they’ve ordered it to wipe out the witnesses._

He was trapped between this colossal horror and the horde behind him, faced with an impossible decision. Death stared him down in both directions. He could smell those cigarettes. Leon squared his shoulders and lifted Matilda, telling himself that Chris wouldn’t want him to be afraid no matter what. He fired his final five shots, watched the giant barely stumble, stood his ground and didn’t make a sound as the monster took him by his skull and _squeezed._ Flashbacks to the horrific thing down in the the machinery room ran through his thoughts and the same failsafe came into play. Leon pulled out the flash bang, knocked the pin on his thigh, and threw it down on the ground between them. 

Blinding light flooded his senses, but the giant— _Tyrant_ — let go and Leon dug his boots in and _ran._ His head was throbbing from the tight grip and he was blinking white light from his vision, but he was fucking alive and he had the keycard and Chris was going to come find him and they’d get _the hell out of this place,_ out of this city, out of this hell. It was the only thought that kept Leon moving as he burst from the jail and into the garage. He slowed his gait, trying to think, trying to figure out what to do next with the thundering footsteps gone. Leon looked to the shutter and thought about just opening it and running when the wall behind him burst and crumbled and the devil himself came through in a trench coat and black slacks. 

“Oh no,” Leon choked out before that terrible hand took him by the throat and lifted him into the air like he weighed nothing. The smell of cigarettes was overwhelming and he couldn’t breathe. He scrabbled uselessly at the Tyrant’s arm with his blunt nails, trying to kick and get away, but the thing’s reach was too long and Leon was too small, so unbelievably small and weak and useless and helpless and the cigarettes were going to burn constellations into his skin and—

“Get your filthy hands off him, you ugly bastard!”

Three shots rang out, heavy slugs that were far beyond any firepower Leon had had so far in this place, and he was dropped to the floor. Hands looped under his armpits and he was dragged away. Leon had a hand to his bruised throat, struggling for breath but so fucking happy to be on the ground again. Being held so high, feet dangling above the ground— it was too close, too much, he would never be free of the smell of cigarettes, but—

“Now!”

Chris’s order confused Leon until there was the rev of an engine and a SWAT van barreled past them, slamming into the Tyrant with decimating power. The wall crumbled more, brick and concrete tumbling down, and Agent Ada swung herself out of the driver’s seat and leveled Leon with what could only be a glare, though he couldn’t see through her sunglasses. 

“This is getting old,” she snapped. “Saving your ass— that’s twice now.”

Leon wheezed and rolled onto his side to stand. Chris helped him up and Leon leaned against the other man a little too tellingly. “Didn’t know we were keeping score,” he rattled out, esophagus bruised and failing him. Chris clutched Leon by the shoulders and looked him over with palpable worry that had Leon’s heart racing. It wasn’t the smile he’d wanted, but it was somehow better. 

“This isn’t a game!” Agent Ada shouted. From the SWAT van, there was a groan and clatter and gray hands emerged, digging itself out. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Chris murmured with frustration.

“Nothing dies down here,” Agent Ada complained before pulling out a remote and clicking a button that blew the SWAT van to kingdom come. Leon flinched away from the explosion and Chris held him tight, keeping him standing. 

“Was that really necessary?” Chris griped, running his hands up and down Leon’s sides, checking him out. “At least a warning would have been appreciated.”

Ada didn’t respond to Chris, looking to Leon. “I take it you have the keycard?”

“Yeah,” Leon breathed, finally getting his bearings. “And this.” He held up the tape recorder, tossed it over to the Agent while Chris looked on with confusion. “I was hoping you could explain what’s on it.”

Ada pursed her lips, simpering. “Maybe,” she hedged. “After I hear it.”

“What’s on it?” Chris asked Leon in a low voice.

“Something about Umbrella,” Leon told him. “A secret facility and a, a G-Virus? I didn’t understand any of it.” He watched Chris pale. “You do, though,” Leon said. “You know what it could be talking about. What’s going on?”  
Chris shook his head. “I can’t— it’s not safe. Leon, you need to get out of here.”

Leon knew Chris was trying to look out for him, but right now, all Leon wanted was someone to hate.

“We might want to open the shutter,” Agent Ada said from the gate, looking impatient. “Unless the two of you would rather keep trading secrets until the world ends? Is this a ‘no girls allowed’ thing or are you just rude?”

Chris glared at her. She stared back. Leon got the feeling that they wouldn’t be getting along any time soon. “Thank you,” he said, feeling the need to break the tension. “Both of you. For getting that thing away from me.”

“You’re reckless.”

“Don’t worry, Leon.”

The differing responses were a little unsettling. Leon winced. “We should get moving,” he said, agreeing with Agent Ada and moving forward on still-wobbly legs to plug in the keycard and open the gate. Chris was a firm presence beside him, holding onto some gun Leon hadn’t seen before. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Lightning Hawk,” Chris told him. “A special gun custom made for S.T.A.R.S. units, like the Samurai Edge. It was in the S.T.A.R.S. office.”

Leon grinned a little. “There’s that extra fire power then, right?”

Chris just grimaced. “You would have died if I didn’t have this.” 

As the gate rattled upwards and Agent Ada brought the recorder to her ear to listen, Leon jostled Chris gently with his shoulder and said, “I’m alive— you did it. Thank you.”

Chris just nodded and ducked beneath the gate to follow the agent, Leon following suit. The audio from the tape cut off and Ada dropped her arm with an air of defeat. Leon flinched as the rain poured down on him and asked, “Is that the intel you needed?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied. “Ben didn’t come through.”

Chris sighed beside him. “What are you looking for, Agent?”

“More info on the people responsible for this mess. What about you two? Trying to save the world?”

“I told Lieutenant Branagh I’d bring help,” Leon replied.

“Good luck getting that,” she shot back. “And you, Mr. Stone Face?”

Chris’s expression was grim. “Is Umbrella really responsible for this or is it another accident?”

Agent Ada’s gait slowed. She stopped completely and turned to look at Chris, unreadable through those damned sunglasses even though it was the dead of night. She looked Chris up and down and Leon felt instinctively protective, shifting to stand partly in front of Chris, not wanting her to try anything. “Who are you?” she asked Chris, something odd in her tone.

Chris swallowed hard enough for Leon to see. “I’m Chris Redfield.”

Ada was silent for a long moment. Then, “How did you survive that place?”

“By the skin of my teeth,” Chris responded. “Did Umbrella do this on purpose or was it another accident?”

Agent Ada hesitated. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you,” she finally said. “It’s— classified.” Chris seemed annoyed by the answer as Ada turned and kept moving. Only then did Leon noticed the way the road ended and dropped a good fifty feet, the ground just gone and showing pipework below like bones exposed. “Road’s out,” Agent Ada said.

“We can go through the gun shop,” Chris said. “It’s got a back exit that leads straight across and can get us past the brunt of this.” Leon was going to ask how he knew that until he remembered that Chris had lived here for _two years_ and could probably navigate these streets with his eyes closed. “Hopefully there’s no one inside.” Chris went for the double doors and tested the handles before dropping to his knees and pulling out a lock pick. Leon and Agent Ada both traded a glance, mildly impressed, as Chris made quick work of the simple lock. “I go in first,” Chris told them both. “Keep quiet.”

“Yessir,” Leon said.

“Who put you in charge?” Agent Ada demanded.

Chris whirled around with a sudden furious grace that had Leon stepping reflexively away from him, even as Chris made it clear that the person he was upset with was the Federal Agent. “If we had gone with your stupid fucking plan back in the garage, Leon would have been pancaked along with that fucking thing. I don’t give a shit what kind of chain of command exists in your castle in the clouds, this is my fucking city and Leon’s my fucking officer, so you’re going to listen to me or go it alone— got it?”

Agent Ada scowled and the expression marred her attractive features. Leon almost felt like he was watching two wolves judge the distance between teeth and throat. And Chris— Chris had said Leon was his officer? Why did that—

“I’m going inside first,” Chris said. “You second, then Leon takes the rear. Okay?”

“Think I can’t protect myself, Redfield?” she spat.

“If you really are some big shot federal agent here for Umbrella,” Chris explained. “Then I have a feeling your survival takes precedence over mine.”

Leon didn’t like that one bit. Chris turned away from the Agent— who hadn’t said she agreed to anything but wasn’t fighting his take of the lead either— and pushed open the doors. From behind, Leon could see a weight in Chris’s eyes. He almost wanted to continue the argument and insist that _Leon_ should go first. He didn’t want Chris coming across any more dead friends. Still, following Chris’s lead was as easy as breathing at this point, and Leon backed himself into the gun shop behind Agent Ada, keeping an eye out for anything that could follow them in. They were quiet as mice in the shop and Chris pushed two fingers out twice, telling Leon to break away and search. 

“What a mess,” Agent Ada commented under her breath, and Leon couldn’t agree more. Everything was in shambles inside the shop, boxes and shelves overturned, trash littering the ground and making stealth difficult with very few clear places to put his feet. He was able to find five bullets for Matilda and a long barrel add-on for the shotgun, which Leon thanked the fucking heavens for. Chris had gotten the Lightning Hawk, but Leon honestly didn’t want to suggest Chris ever let him use the weapon for an intermittent amount of time. He wanted Chris to keep it because it seemed like the most reliable weapon they had. Leon clipped the barrel into place after gently taking the shotgun from off of Chris’s back and then pushed deeper into the store, letting down his guard a little as he glanced over and saw Chris and Agent Ada checking out the other end. He could hear the patter of rain beyond, went to seek it out, saw outside light streaming in, rounded a corner and—

Froze when the barrel of a shotgun was pressed to his neck

“Don’t move,” came a gruff voice. Leon checked him out in his peripherals: an older man, American-Asian, wearing a yellow flannel with wild eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Leon said calmly, keeping his hands up. 

“I said _don’t move._ ”

“I’m just passing through,” Leon told him, honestly too scared to move even if he wanted. He could handle zombies and monsters, but terrified civilians that were in the same mess as him were a blind spot. He didn’t know how to talk someone down from something like this. Sanity was scarce and fear was the mind killer. Leon took care to make sure the man didn’t know of Chris or Agent Ada, speaking only with the personal pronoun when he said, “I’m going to ask you to lower that weapon.” 

“Like hell you are!” he spat, pushing the barrel into Leon’s skin with bruising force. Leon shut his eyes and tried to swallow down the panic. He hated being at this end of a gun, especially when he didn’t know the person at the other end. “You’re going to turn around and go right back out the way you came in.”

There was the shuffle of small feet, a tiny rattle of breath leaving broken lungs. Leon looked beyond the man and saw a little girl with dark hair dressed in jeans and a stripped shirt fumbling her way towards them. Her left eye was twisted and glazed with signs of infection. Leon’s throat caught. “I think your daughter needs help, sir.”

The man cocked the shotgun and Leon flinched. “Don’t tell me how to deal with my daughter.”

“Rob.”

Chris’s voice flooded Leon’s senses with relief as the man startled and spun the shotgun around to land his sights on Chris, who stepped out from the darkness with his hands raised and pain in his expression. “Chris,” the man— Rob— choked out, his hands visibly shaking. “What the fuck? What the fuck is happening? What the fuck are you doing here? _What the fuck happened?_ ”

“Lower the gun, Rob,” Chris orders gently. “Officer Kennedy was right— we’re not here to hurt you.”

Then Agent Ada made the fabulous decision of making herself known with her own small gun lifted and pointed at the little girl. Rob instantly stood in front of her, shielding the girl with is body, shouting, “No, wait!”

“Step aside,” Agent Ada ordered, her voice cold. “We need to terminate her before she turns.”

“‘Terminate’?” Rob repeated incredulously. “That’s my fucking daughter!”

“Ada, let them be,” Leon prompted, inwardly horrified by her readiness to shoot a child as Chris also moved forward to stand between Agent Ada and the girl. 

“Lower your weapon, Agent,” Chris bit out, eyes flashing. Agent Ada took a long moment to think before her hand dropped down to her side. Chris’s shoulders slumped and he turned to Rob, that pain returning with a vengeance. “Where’s Joseph?”

“Dead,” Rob replied. “Along with everyone else. What the fuck happened, Chris?” When Chris didn’t respond, the angry father resurged and Leon noticed that half of the fury was grief. “You can’t just waltz into my shop and then give me jack shit, Redfield! You and all the others were suspended and then just gone! Barry wasn’t even around to answer the phone when shit went to hell, but I find it a little odd that his wife and kids were gone only a few weeks before everything fell apart! What aren’t you telling us?!”

“I’m sorry, Robert,” Chris said, his voice catching at the end. “I can’t. It’s not safe.”

There was a whisper behind them and then a little girl’s call of, “Daddy…?”

Robert turned away and dropped to his knees in front of his daughter, pulling her into his chest. “Yeah, Emmie, daddy’s here, I’m here, okay?” he prattled on, holding his daughter close, near tears. He shook his head and then looked to Chris. “Those fucking things outside… Look what they did to us. You, you’re S.T.A.R.S., Chris, you went after those cannibals, you’re supposed to know something— how did this happen?! _Huh?!_ ”

He pulled away and held out his daughter like she was exhibit A in a crime scene and Leon felt sick. The poor little girl looked half dead already, her gaze far away. Chris was looking at her like he wanted to vomit and Leon knew that Chris had known the little girl before this. Before the infection. 

“She was our sweet little angel,” Robert sobbed.

The girl tilted her head. “Mommy…?”

“Mommy’s sleeping,” Robert said, and yeah, Leon was definitely going to be sick right alongside Chris. “And I’m gonna put you to bed too, okay?… Emma.” 

Robert stood and lifted his daughter with the ease of a parent that had done this a thousand times. Leon remembered something that he’d been told ages ago— that one day a parent put down their child and ever picked them up again, that all parents would do this. Robert was lifting his child for the last time and he knew it. Leon wondered if his parents would have felt the same pain Robert was showing if they’d had to “put him to sleep” like this. Every part of him knew they wouldn’t have. 

“Robert,” Chris called out. “Can I—”

Robert smiled wretchedly and came towards him, carrying the little girl. “Say goodnight to Uncle Chris, Emma,” he prompted. “He always was your favorite, wasn’t he? He could spin you around faster than anyone else, could throw you higher in the pool than your daddy and Uncle Barry. Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

The little girl pulled herself from her father’s grip to wrap weak arms around Chris’s neck and brush her lips in a dazed kiss across Chris’s cheek. Her tiny lips touched tear tracks and Leon wished he could have been alone in this whole fight through the city if it meant Chris hadn't experienced this moment.

Robert pulled his daughter away. “Let’s get you to bed, Emma.”

“Do you want—”

“Just give us some privacy.” Robert interrupted Chris unapologetically, and Leon wanted to yell at the man, wanted to argue and say Chris deserved the closure too, that if Chris wanted to be there for Emma then he had the right, but Robert was about to shoot his daughter to spare her the pain of infection and Leon knew he had no right to intrude or push for Chris to be there. As Robert carried his daughter into a back room, out of sight, Leon stepped forward and took Chris by the elbow, just a gentle touch to reassure and maybe even comfort. He felt Chris’s entire body shudder as Robert shut the door with the butt of the shotgun. A heavy silence fell over the three of them and Leon— was looking for someone to hate.

“You know,” he began carefully. “It’s one thing to keep the truth from me…” He looked pointedly between Chris and Agent Ada because they were both guilty of keeping secrets. “But why him?” 

The blast of a shotgun rang through the night and Leon looked to the door with horror, yet was somehow grateful that he hadn’t seen it happen. The rage was still there, though, and Chris was shaking ever so slightly. Leon’s gentle touched turned into a near bruising grip around Chris’s arm and he pulled the man around to face him. The tears brimming in Chris’s eyes hit Leon harder than the gunshot had. “I want to find out what’s happening here. And stop whoever’s behind it.” He looked Chris dead in the eye, then Ada. “Helping people like that— helping Robert and Emma— that’s why I joined the force.”

Chris tore his gaze away, but Ada stood strong. She looked between the two men and said, “My mission is to take down Umbrella’s entire operation. We may not make it out.”

Leon wasn’t about to back down. “Whatever it takes to save this city… count me in.”

Ada nodded. “And you?” she asked, her question directed to Chris. “You’ve already fought Umbrella once. I won’t blame you if you don’t have it in you to do it again.”

Ada seemed to know a lot more about Chris than Leon did, and that pissed him off for some reason, but she was right. Chris had already been through hell once— he didn’t deserve to do it again. His grip on Chris’s arm allowed him to feel the trembling breath the man took in before stating, “I’ll blow them to the sky as many times as it takes. If anything, you’ll need me. So count me in too.”

She nodded again. “Then follow me.” She turned smartly on her heels and marched out of the shop, heading for the sinkhole. Chris was grim faced and blinking away the last of the tears as he followed. “How much have you told him?” she asked, not even turning around as she walked. 

“Not much,” Chris replied, glancing to Leon. “I wanted to keep him out of it as far as I could.”

Agent Ada snorted. “Ever heard of the Umbrella corporation?” she asked Leon. “They’re a pharmaceutical company secretly making bioweapons. They have a virus— it turns people into indestructible monsters.”

Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That explains the horrible things I’ve seen,” he replied sarcastically. If she really thought he was so dumb as to not put two and two together at this point and come up with “monsters,” then she really did think pretty low of him. 

“Umbrella has been working through Raccoon City for years,” Chris explained. “The disaster at Spencer Mansion was an accidental leak of the T-Virus. It killed every single researcher on hand at the place and even infected the wildlife around it. It took over dogs, birds— even sharks.”

Leon’s eyes went wide and he looked to Chris with disbelief. “No way,” he said. “Sharks?”

“Sharks,” Chris repeated with a grimace. “They’re flirting with death and acting like it’s a business transaction. I’m not sure what happened here. I don’t know if it was another accidental spill or not or if this was planned, but I doubt it is. The virus isn’t ready, from what I saw. They were working on perfecting it to make something called a Tyrant, but—”

“They perfected the Tyrant,” Leon cut in. “That thing that’s been chasing us— Ben had a note on it, said it was a Tyrant. They perfected the T-virus already.”

Chris’s face fell. “Oh.”

“The infection of Raccoon City was on purpose,” Agent Ada said as she led them down a wood walkway, deeper into the sinkhole. “I was sent here three days ago to meet my informant to collect the key information for the infection. It was a large scale test that was supposed to have safeguards and contingency plans and clean up involved for after. They had this whole thing plotted out like a science fiction novel, like it was for the fun of it. And that’s why I’m after Annette Birkin— she’s the one at Umbrella responsible for the virus. I’m going to bring her down.”

“Birkin,” Chris repeated slowly. “The wife of William Birkin?”

Ada looked to him curiously over her shoulder. “You know the name?”

“It was on a plaque in the mansion,” Chris replied. “Surrounded by other important names. I don’t remember all of them, but if I can manage to remember a few, do you think you’d be able to track those people down before something like this happens again elsewhere?”

Ada’s expression was thoughtful. “Maybe,” she hedged. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. We have to survive this, first of all.” They approached a large cement sewage pipe, tall enough for someone to be on Leon’s shoulders and still make it through. “This is how we get to Annette,” she told them.

Leon almost laughed. “Based on what you’ve said, the sewer seems fitting.”

“Well said,” Ada agreed. “After you…”

Chris’s sharp gaze had Leon stepping forward, realizing he’d have to play peacemaker. “Seems fair enough,” he said with a fake grin pointed to Chris. “After all, we had our discussion on taking turns. Why don’t you take rear this time, Sir? I’ll be point.”

Chris scowled. But he surprised Leon when he said, “On you,” and lifted his Lightning Hawk up and at vigilance. Leon’s grin became real as Chris’s trust in him sunk into his bones and gave him confidence. He walked into the sewer with something like bravery, telling himself that if Chris thought he could handle it, then he could handle anything. 

Walking in the sewers felt like stepping into another world, his feet sinking into muck and grime and his boots squelching unpleasantly. There was a stench that seemed to permeate into his own skin and he knew taking several showers after this wouldn’t be enough. “Can’t imagine a real scientist being down here,” he said offhandedly. 

“According to HQ,” Agent Ada said. “This leads right into Umbrella’s secret facility.”

Leon found that hard to believe. “Come on. The sewers are run by the city. How could they have a facility without the authorities knowing?”

“Same way they had a giant lab beneath a mansion in the middle of the Arklay woods,” Chris replied, his voice distant and echoing harshly. “Umbrella’s controlled Raccoon City for years, and beyond. Me and my team are investigating how deep the web goes. They’ve got their hands in S.T.A.R.S. and more, possibly as high as real government— who knows how deeply their reach goes. All I know is that having control over this small town is a cakewalk for them. We’re nothing more than a glorified science experiment, and those fuckers are staring down at us on the petri dishes.”

“Welcome to corporate America,” Ada agreed.

There was a rumble and concrete fell from the ceiling in small chunks, Leon freezing and the others doing the same behind them as the ground shook beneath their feet. “Jesus,” Leon said. “Was that an earthquake?” He rounded the natural bend of the tunnel and saw pale light streaming in from grating in front. 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Ada griped just as this huge mound of _something_ suddenly moved beyond the grating, a giant, unholy creature crawling along the ground that looked to be something like twice Leon’s size. 

He stared in horror, not moving, and then heard Chris ask him what was wrong. Had they really not seen that or had they come around the corner too late? Leon shook himself and kept moving, hoping they wouldn’t have to face whatever that was. There was another rumble and a low roar that bounced around them. “What the hell?” Leon demanded, feeling like his expletives weren’t enough to cover his shock concerning whatever the fuck he had just seen.

“Stay sharp!” Ada ordered. “God only knows what’s down here…”

“I swear to god, if it’s another shark.”

Leon wished he could laugh at Chris’s griping, but the ground trembled again and he wished the world would stop moving. “Again?!” He was frustrated with all of these variables raising their ugly faces, everything piling atop him too quickly for him to process. If he could just take a moment and think, then maybe he’d be able to get his feet back under him, but he was point and he couldn’t afford to get lost in his head again. 

“Leon,” Chris called out. “You doing okay?”

“It’s not too late to turn back, Leon.”

Ada’s condescending tone had Leon’s courage returning. She thought he was the dirt beneath her feet, right? Leon was going to prove her wrong. “Not a chance,” he told her firmly. “You’re both stuck with me to the end.” He followed the tunnel deeper into the sewers and found himself walking on a metal catwalk rather than concrete piping. There was an end to the walkway that dropped down to murky, putrid water. 

Leon grimaced at the sight, but dropped down without hesitation. The disgusting sludge seeped through his clothing instantly and he let out a noise of disgust as he shook his hands to be free of the grime. God, he could feel the stench curdling his brains into mold. He looked up at Ada and Chris, both of them looking down at the sewage beneath like they’d rather be anywhere else. Leon could relate. “Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Unfortunately,” Ada replied. She was crouched low while Chris was standing behind her and watching Leon closely. Leon honestly wanted to wave up at Chris, feeling some sort of childlike excitement at the prospect of actually doing something _good_ for once and taking down the bad guys, but then the ground shook and Leon— heard something from the darkness beyond. He couldn’t see anything, but—

He lifted his hand and ordered, “Wait here,” before approaching cautiously, Matilda and flashlight up. He heard Chris say something, was sure the man hated the idea of Leon checking it out alone, and Leon was going to tell him it was okay, everything would be fine, when—

The waters burst and a giant fucking alligator thrust from the sewage, thrashed its head about and a red, reptilian eye zeroed in one Leon. “Jesus Christ!” he shouted as he nearly lost his footing, the behemoth showing signs of infection like the dogs, and acting like a rabid beast. It roared, barring its sharp teeth that were designed for tearing fleshy things apart. Leon stumbled back, mortally fucking afraid. 

“Leon!” Chris shouted from above. 

“Get out of there!” Ada cried out.

As the alligator dropped back down on all fours and advanced, Leon didn’t have to be told twice. Sewage sludged around his legs, holding him back, and he fought through the waste and garbage surrounding as he just turned and _ran_ , refusing to look back, unable to risk slowing down. The alligator— or whatever it was now— snapped its jaws and surged forward to sink its teeth into Leon, but he flung himself aside and narrowly avoided becoming its lunch. 

There was light ahead of him, the tunnel ending, and Leon pushed himself harder, begging his limbs to work and move faster, praying that this wouldn’t the end. The jaws snapped and Leon could feel the disgusting breath on the back of his neck. He reached the end of the tunnel, gasping for air, sliding down a makeshift waterfall of waste beneath a pipe. The alligator lurched forward again and sunk its teeth into the piping, gas and heat exuding from where the teeth punctured the metal. Leon had a split second to turn and raise Matilda— pray she wasn’t too wet— and fire at the pipe that bore the words “WARNING: Flammable Gas.” 

The alligator was blown to pieces, guts and flesh clapping Leon’s body with a wet smack as the head was decimated and only a bloody torso left behind. Leon took a step back, heaving for breath, and then smiled so wide that his face hurt. “Chew on that you overgrown sonuvabitch,” he said.

“Leon!”

Back at the smoldering, twitching corpse, Chris climbed over the ruined body, panic making his movements jerky and unsteady. He ran to Leon, his eyes dark against his pale face. “Leon,” Chris gasped, reaching out and taking Leon firmly by the shoulder. Chris had dropped down and ran after him and Leon— couldn’t unpack that right now, because jesus christ, _he’d just blown up a fucking alligator the size of a house._ “Answer me, Leon,” Chris begged. “Are you okay?”

Leon couldn’t stop smiling and he leaned into Chris’s touch. “Did you see that?” he asked, giddy as the adrenaline crashed away from him. “I fucking did it! Holy shit!”

Chris stared at him with disbelief. Leon laughed again and held to Chris on the shoulder in turn, wanting to ask if Chris was proud of him, if Chris thought he couldn’t handle himself now after _that_ , but he didn’t want to gloat. He just kept smiling and hoped he didn’t look too fucking disgusting while covered in alligator organs. “I did it,” he repeated before stepping away so he could get some of this shit off of his body. The flesh fell away in chunks and he was positive that he’d only feel clean after dunking himself in acid by the end of this. 

“Up here!”

Leon looked up to see Ada push down a ladder for him and Chris to climb. He wondered how she’d gotten there if the only way to advance had been via the tunnel that had housed the gator from hell. He guessed maybe she’d found it by chance. Chris put a hand on Leon’s back and made sure Leon went up the ladder first. “What the hell was that?” he asked both of them. 

“Just get up here!” Ada barked. Leon finished the climb, the reached back to offer Chris a hand, which he took. He grinned one last time down at Chris, who met the smile shakily. The man was still pale at the edges. Had he been worried about Leon or was he remembering something from the mansion? As Ada began to walk, taking the lead now, she kept talking. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Well, Chris did,” Leon pointed out. “But _you_ said the virus turned people into monsters, not reptiles.”

Ada huffed. “Fair point.” She brought them to an elevator, which they all could fit inside easily. Leon slumped against the wall, still breathing a little heavily as the exertion of before left his limbs feeling achey. “Honestly, I’m just impressed you made it in one piece.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it,” Chris accused. “Also, you said that going down was the only way, but you sure as hell didn’t follow me.”

“I didn’t know there was another way,” Ada snipped. “Sorry for not being perfect. If you’d like to be the expert, then feel free to step in and take my place. Unless you don’t actually know where we’re going?”

Chris just scowled. Leon tried to find a way to change the topic. “So let me get this straight,” he said slowly as the elevator descended. “Umbrella sells monsters like that to who? Our military? Somebody else’s?”

“They don’t sell the monsters, they sell the viruses that make them,” Ada explained. “And Annette is who makes the viruses. Scary as that alligator was… Annette is far more dangerous.”

Chris’s frown was practically permanent on his face and Leon could tell he wasn’t buying what Ada was trying to sell, though Leon wasn’t sure what exactly was the issue. Was it the insinuation that this Annette was scarier than a giant alligator that could bulldoze them in seconds? Leon was pretty sure he’d disagree what that sentiment too, especially since he was the only one of the three to go toe to toe with the thing. 

He wanted to ask more when the elevator jerked to a stop. Leon took point again even as Chris made a noise of disapproval. Leon was absolutely lost at this point, but everything led into one another and it wasn’t like he had a lot of choices to make depending on which way he turned. He pushed through room after room, finding little and noticing Ada had a lot less to say now. Leon hated the silence.

“Was that alligator better or worse than your shark?” he asked Chris, unable to stand the heavy atmosphere.

“Worse,” Chris replied.

“Really? I’d think a shark would be a lot scarier.”

“You weren’t with me when I met the shark.”

Leon thought Chris was trying to undersell the terror factor of a shark’s black eyes when Agent Ada let out this laugh that seemed more mean than anything else. “You can’t protect him forever,” she told Chris. Had Chris been more scared of the alligator because it was Leon being chased? “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to make an impossible decision.”

Chris was quiet for a long time. “Shut up.”

Leon wished they would just stop fighting. His nerves were being put back on edge and the high of blowing that thing to kingdom come was waning in the face of their bickering. He tried not to let it get to him and approached another fucking door, wondering if he should have counted how many doors he’d blindly opened at this point, and swung it forward. 

There was a woman at the other side. Blonde, severe, in a lab coat with a sneer that reminded him of his mother. Leon snapped Matilda up and tried not to stare at the corpse she was studying. “Identify yourself.”

Ada stood beside him, pistol raised as well. “Annette Birkin.”

“She’s who we’re looking for?” Leon asked as Chris stood on his left, Lightning Hawk ready, his stance tense. 

“Not much time,” Annette murmured to herself. “Need to dispose of it…”

“We’re here for the G-Virus.”

Annette looked up at them with a far away gaze. Leon almost wondered if she had some sort of concussion or traumatic brain injury. The look in her eyes was— wrong. “Heh,” she breathed, a tiny laugh that held no mirth, almost a sneer on her face that had Leon fighting away the smell of cigarettes again. “That’s not gonna to happen.” Then her glassy eyes went to Leon’s left and some clarity returned with recognition. “You— Chris Redfield,” She said slowly. “One of the four that actually survived Spencer’s madhouse. You must the the unluckiest son of a bitch in the world to end up back in this mess.”

Chris’s stance wavered as Ada pulled the safety off her pistol, snapping, “I’m warning you, doctor!”

“Oh yeah?” Annette asked, a twist smirked tugging at her pale lips. Then she flicked on a lighter that Leon hadn’t noticed in her hand and tossed it onto the corpse, flames catching immediately as she turned and ran.

“Stop!” Ada shouted as she pursued the woman, Leon and Chris following closely behind. As they rounded a corner, bullets flew and Ada faltered, bringing a useless arm up to shield her face like she thought her bones could stop bullets. Leon knew she was an easy target and cried out her name as he leaped, tackling her to the ground as excruciating pain laced through his shoulder and chest and head and _everywhere._ The burn was reminiscent of the bones he’d broken as a child but somehow worse, his head pounding with blood as his heart raced and his mind insisted he was somewhere close to dying. There was something _wrong_ with his chest. It took him a long time to figure out what exactly had happened.

He’d been shot.

Leon didn’t even feel it as he hit the ground, the bullet wound too much for him to focus beyond. He heard gunfire but barely knew where it was coming from and muffled voices traded poisoned words above him. Then Ada was leaning close enough to be seen through his swimming vision, her glossy lips saying his name, gorgeous brown eyes finally exposed with the glasses gone. Leon distantly realized she was actually really pretty. Not stern and cold and cruel like Annette, like his mother. Ada seemed like she could be nice. Then he saw Chris behind her, the man white as a sheet. 

Oh god, Leon hated seeing Chris like this. But they had a job to do. Annette was gone, he knew it. “Forget about me,” he breathed as Chris dropped to his knees beside him and lifted Leon’s head into his lap with his large hands. Chris was warm and comforting, a refuge in the cold, but the pain was making everything fuzz over like he’d been drugged. “Just go,” Leon whispered as the light faded. He wondered if he was bleeding out. He remembered reading that shoulder wounds were deadly if they weren’t treated. “Stop her.” He was probably just being dramatic. His words were slurred and he was tired. Chris was _so warm._ “Before she… gets away…”

Chris was the last person Leon saw before darkness consumed him. He almost smiled as he realized that this was the nicest way he’d ever fallen unconscious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yes i am here to say
> 
> sorry but the next chap is also gonna be chris's POV
> 
> i realized the chap was literally *too long* and i know y'all say you like that but sometimes long chaps mean important scenes get lost in the sheer length and i thought some of the stuff in this chap was a little too important to be brushed over so i'm just gonna split it up and you're gonna get double chris XD;; sorry!!!!

“We need to go after her.”

Agent Ada was a cold hearted bitch and no one would ever be able to convince Chris otherwise. Leon was limp in his arms, brow twisted with pain even in unconsciousness though he’d barely made a fucking sound when _being shot,_ and Chris honestly thought Leon didn’t make noise when he got hurt out of some twisted childhood training and by god, the fucking federal agent wanted to _leave Leon behind._

“He took a bullet for you,” he said, unable to look away from Leon’s youthful face. He was just a kid laying on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot wound he’d taken for a woman that couldn’t even be bothered to be grateful. Chris had a bandage applying pressure to the wound and Agent Ada was undressing, revealing a rather impractical tight red dress to go with her dark tights and clicking heels. She looked completely put together and under control even though Leon was unconscious and bleeding and _hurting_ all because of her. “I can’t believe you.”

“Stopping Annette is our number one priority,” Ada shot back. “You were in that mansion, you saw what Umbrella is doing. I know it’s hard, but losing one more person to save the world is a loss I’m willing to take.”

 _”I’m not.”_ Chris spat. 

“He’ll be fine,” Ada stressed, her almond eyes narrowed and glossy lips turned down. Chris hated how severely pretty this woman was because it meant that absolutely nothing phased her and she somehow looked ready for the runway after three days in the apocalypse. What kind of elite agent was she to manage that? It only made him more suspicious. “We can’t let Annette get away. She has the G-Virus and we need to collect the sample for proof of reasonable cause to initiate the official takedown of Umbrella.” Ada crouched down in front of Chris, her brown eyes begging, and yet— he didn’t trust her for a second. “I need you,” she pleaded, resting a soft hand on his arm. “Please. Leon would want you to help me.”

Chris saw right through her. Maybe he would have been fooled before, back when he’d thought the murders were really just insane cannibals and that he could trust everyone on his team, but after coming face to face with Wesker’s betrayal, Chris liked to think he’d learned from his mistakes. “You don’t care about him.”

“I do,” she insisted, her expression softening too tellingly. It was like she was making herself easy to read so Chris would think he was reading her correctly when she was probably just feeding him lies in stereo. “I’ve never— had anyone do that for me. I never thought anyone would ever want to.” Or maybe she was being genuine, because the gentleness of her tone and the way her eyes couldn’t look at Leon for too long seemed too complex for someone to fake. “I know what he did isn’t something I can take lightly and I refuse to. But he believes in this fight just as much as I do and I can’t do this alone. I don’t want his sacrifice to go to waste. Please. Just come with me. If anything, he’ll be safer here than in the Umbrella facility. Please, Chris. I need you.”

Chris steeled his jaw. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” The idea of Leon waking up alone in this dank sewer with a bullet wound and the memories that seemed to always haunted him was unacceptable. “I can’t leave him.”

He expected Agent Ada to be upset. He was shocked when instead she looked at him with pity and said, “I’m sorry, Chris, but being the dog at his heels won’t make him feel the same as you do for him.”

Chris felt those words like a _slap._ He distantly heard himself say he didn’t know what she was talking about and wished that were the truth. He was amazed she’d noticed when he’d only just figured it out himself, in the moment she’d dredged it to life and used it against him. His undying loyalty to this rookie had been starting to amaze him until she’d dropped this proverbial bomb on his head and suddenly things made _sense._

He wanted Leon Kennedy.

He wasn’t sure how far or in what ways, but the urge to touch was always there and the protective instinct he usually considered to be brotherly was far beyond just that. Chris was the kind of guy to be married to his work, he didn’t often consider relationships, but it wasn’t like he was a brick wall that couldn’t see how attractive Leon Kennedy was in the most primal of ways. Those soft eyes offset by the hard concentration Leon would wear when facing down the devil, the way his hands would shake but he’d swallow down the fear and force courage to the surface, how he’d cut through the quiet one moments for the sake of others and the fall into damning silence when he was being throw across a room by a beast. 

Leon wasn’t like the other people Chris had worked with. He was reliable and strong and brave and if he ever did something that put anyone at risk, he’d stop himself in his tracks and rewire and fix. Ever since Chris had accidentally snapped at the poor kid for his bad habit of thinking too much, Leon hadn’t made the same mistake again. He’d been clear as a whistle, focused and always at the ready, sometimes seeming more reliable to Chris than himself. There was just something about Leon fucking Kennedy that instilled that same steadfast “until the day I die” mentality in Chris that he only felt with the superiors he actually trusted, and those were few and far between. And then beyond that, there was— the rest of it.

His need to touch, his desire to be close to Leon, his acid-green _jealousy._ Agent Ada had been looking at Leon too much since they’d come together and Chris hated being rear because it meant she was closer to Leon than he was more often than not, and that had his blood boiling. And the gut-wrenching fear he’d felt when Leon had been chased by the god forsaken alligator that was more fitting of the jurassic period than modern day Raccoon City, how Chris hadn’t even hesitated in jumping down and pursuing the thing even though he knew that his added firepower wouldn’t do them any good. Jumping down had been a reckless thing to do, there’d been no reason for him to have done it expect to stay with Leon. He could have gotten them _both_ killed and left Agent Ada in the wind and the only reason Chris’s decision hadn’t backfired in the countless ways that were open to happening was because Leon was a fucking genius and so unbelievably clever and such a quick thinker that he’d managed to take out the alligator all on his own. 

God, the way Leon had smiled at him as Chris had climbed over the corpse, desperate to see Leon without teeth-holes in his body. The way Leon smiled _ever._ Chris wanted so badly that it hurt and fuck this Agent for trying to burn him with this. 

“What I feel for Officer Kennedy has nothing to do with my decision to stay behind,” Chris defended, shoving down all of his issues into the deep crevices of his mind that he would never let see the light of day if he had his way. “These sewers are dangerous— we just came across a gator twice our size and Leon was the one who actually took it out. He’s completely defenseless and leaving him alone would be resigning him to death when he’s only injured. As far as I’m concerned, Leon’s the best man we’ve got. We can’t lose him.”

The pity didn’t leave her pretty face and Chris fought the urge to snap at her. Chris wasn’t some fucking emotional teenager that didn’t know how to put his feelings aside to focus on the mission. He wasn’t refusing to leave Leon because of whatever he felt for the kid, he was refusing to leave because there had been _an alligator twice their size_ and if Ada were smart, she’d stay back too. Leaving any one of them alone in this place, conscious or not, was a stupid thing to do. 

Agent Ada sighed. She then took that trench-coat she’d been using to hide her dress all night and laid it over Leon’s body, a haphazard toss that was still more than she’d been required to do, of course, but also obviously a second thought. “He’s going to be in just as much danger if Annette reaches the facility,” she told Chris, her words detached. “But— I understand.” Agent Ada smiled down at Leon in a way that had Chris _hating her._ Newly realized feelings be damned, Ada had treated Leon’s safety with careless apathy for too long, Chris wouldn’t let her get anywhere near Leon no matter what. And for all Chris knew, she was just learning that Chris was a lost cause and ensuring a new angle if Leon woke up anytime soon. 

God, Chris, way to be fucking paranoid. 

Except _he had a fucking right._ Wesker was still an ugly stain in his memories and even David Trapp had been wary about trusting anyone higher than himself. Chris had no good reason to trust this woman other than the badge she had flashed and even that could be faked. No, Chris was absolutely going to keep her from getting any closer to Leon, even if it cost himself his own sanity. 

“I’ll be in pursuit of Annette,” Agent Ada told him, her expression grim and easy to read without those gaudy sunglasses. “If he wakes up—”

“When,” Chris interrupted. “Jesus, it’s just a shoulder wound.”

“We can’t tell if it hit an artery or not.”

She was right, but Chris was confident it hadn’t. The blood wasn’t dark enough and even though the bandage he was holding Leon’s shoulder was still slowly blooming red, it wasn’t with the speed that would come with a fatal GSW. And it had hit him in his left shoulder and—

Chris felt a little dizzy as it finally hit him how close that bullet had come to hitting Leon in the _heart._ His vision swam and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the kid laying across the dirty floor, zeroed in on the tiny rise and fall of his chest. Chris fought down the need to get his fingers to a pulse point and pulled on a brave face. “He’s going to be fine,” he told Agent Ada with no room for argument. “If you’re really that worried, you’d be staying behind. If that bullet had hit you, you would be dead. Either be grateful and get moving, or stay behind so you can thank him in person for what he did for you. Either way, you have a job to do that isn’t the same as mine.”

“And what job do you have?”

“I promised Marvin Branagh that I would get Leon Kennedy out of here alive,” Chris said in a low tone, letting the conviction well and overflow into his words. He’d already lost so much— his home, his work, his friends, Robert and Emma, _god,_ the little girl who’s laughter had reminded him of church bells, so clean and pure and happy, overtaken by the T-virus and turned into something inhuman. Chris had lost so much and while he wanted Umbrella destroyed, wanted them to never touch this city again, he also knew that it was hopeless. Raccoon City was gone. He could either take Umbrella down and die trying, or he could break away and get the last few people he cared about out of here. Umbrella wasn’t going to take anyone else from him ever again. “I’m going to keep my promise,” he told the agent. “Leon’s my primary concern. If he wants to follow you into the Umbrella facility once he wakes up, then I’m with him, but if he wants to double back, I’m gone. This isn’t about my feelings or your mission or anything. This is about me granting the dying wish of a man I respected and making sure Umbrella doesn’t ruin another good thing.”

Agent Ada shook her head. “If you don’t take out Umbrella here, with me, they’ll only come back stronger than ever. You’re not saving him— you’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

Chris stared her down, resolute. “I don’t care,” he said. “He’s not going to suffer another moment as long as I’m alive to have a say in it.”

That seemed to finally do the trick. Agent Ada nodded and turned away from him, pulling out some odd kind of device that looked more like a laser-thermometer than a real weapon. She stalked away, heels clicking, and Chris wished she could have worn something more practical. He’d always been impressed by a woman that could function in heels, but it still seemed unnecessary and a lot like showboating. Just take them off and watch the feet, it wasn’t like there was glass to step on down here. Still, she seemed to know what she was doing. Agent Ada whispered something to herself and then pointed the device at a huge fan above, the fan activating and spinning quickly and then blowing itself to pieces and giving Agent Ada a way through. Chris tried not to be impressed as the woman climbed the ladder up and disappeared from sight. 

She’d be fine. Leon was Chris’s only concern.

He turned back to the poor kid and set about dressing the wound, knowing he’d have to pull aside some layers. He was grateful to Lt. Branagh for getting the kid into full tactical gear, but right now he just needed it all off. Chris quickly loosened the vest and carefully pulled it away from Leon’s body, then the top layer of the RPD uniform, and then the undershirt, and then—

Leon— looked really fucking good for a kid his age.

Chris’s skin flushed to the tips of his ears as he unwrapped more bandages from the roll Agent Ada had been carrying on her person and pressed more of it to the sluggishly bleeding bullet wound, resolutely looking at Leon’s face and only that. He could still feel the gradual rise and fall of Leon’s breathing through his chest cavity so it wasn’t like Chris had a reason to be studying Leon’s bare chest, no excuse in existence that could keep Chris from feeling guilty. Leon had seemed blown away by Chris asking for consent to touch so there was no way in hell Chris was going to do anything even as innocent as just a glance while Leon was unconscious. 

As he put his attention into not being a huge fucking creep, Chris looked to Leon’s shoulder where the wound would be, but saw— fucking teeth marks in the kid’s neck, jesus christ, a perfect bloody indent for thirty-two teeth, red in the meat of the trapezius muscle. It looked painful and fresh enough for Chris to surmise Leon had gotten the bite tonight, but it didn’t look infected and he knew Leon was smart enough to disinfect any wound, especially from a fucking zombie. Chris ran a hand over his face, took a long moment to just breathe and stem down the panic that was welling despite all logic. He knew the bite didn’t spread the infection and he knew that Leon was fine. He knew the bite was just another wound. He just— really fucking hated seeing it on Leon to begin with. To save himself the agony of having to look at the bite any longer, Chris wrapped it with a bit of the bandage, keeping it out of sight while he had Leon undressed and hoping that would keep away the risk of infection while down here in the sewers. Then he turned to Leon’s left shoulder and set to work.

Chris quickly cleaned the GSW, felt relief in knowing it had gone completely though Leon’s shoulder and there was no shrapnel to be picked out, wrapped the shoulder tightly, and then quickly turned to gather up Leon’s clothes and redress him and _not look_ and—

Something caught his eye.

Something that made even the heat in his chest at seeing all of that bare skin dwindle. 

Leon was strong, not necessarily ripped, but he was twenty-one and young and still had a little baby fat clinging to his body that made him beautiful in that innocent way. He was toned and Chris could see the muscles beneath the skin, could see the strength tucked away, but he could also see—

These—

Scars.

Along Leon’s right side, following the wide edge of his ribcage, these white scars that were losing their visibility to the ages, but still there and still—

They were puncture wounds, but they weren’t shaped like a knife. Chris knew what knife wounds looked like, he knew the various things that could be stabbed into a human body and the marks they would leave behind. Ice picks and crowbars and cork twists and pencils. But these puncture wounds looked different, though, they looked…

Chris had seen some terrible things in his service with the Air Force and S.T.A.R.S. and this looked a lot like the time he’d come across a fatal accident and had seen a fellow female pilot with her ribs broken so badly that they’d stabbed right through her flesh, a puncture wound from the inside out made by her own bones, the most intimate of betrayals when it was her own body that killed her. She’d bled out on the tarmac with four ribs jutting out of her slowly-cooling corpse. Chris remembered seeing the body later, after they’d cut away the bone that had protruded and allowed him to study the holes they’d left behind, for educational purposes. Chris was seeing those marks again, white and healed and on Leon’s body. Leon’s ribs had been broken, probably years ago when he was young and able to heal, and they’d broken out of his own body.

Chris eyes moved lower to the sharp V of Leon’s hips framing a soft trail of downy soft hair that trailed into Leon’s uniform slacks and saw fading cigarette burns dotting the jut of Leon’s hipbone like stars.

Chris sat back as the weight of realization crashed over him.

He’d suspected and feared, but he’d hoped against hope and prayed that Leon had just been on edge and a special case of trauma and that he hadn’t been— His parents hadn’t— That Leon—

Chris breathed slowly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, stem down the panic and sickness and dread. Okay. Leon had been abused. It made a lot of sense, and while he hated it, there was nothing he could do for it now. He had no way of knowing the circumstances or the length or even the severity, and for all he knew it had been a single instance of extreme violence and the aftermath had lingered. Chris counted his inhales and exhales and rationalized. He couldn’t risk making assumptions. Leon wouldn’t want Chris digging. Chris needed to just— push it all away and focus. If he lost focus, Leon could die.

That worked.

Chris quickly redressed Leon, happy to have the body armor back on the kid but wishing that the bullet had hit somewhere that had been covered. What good was a bullet proof vest if the bullets hit anywhere but the fucking vest? Chris allowed himself only one more moment of frustration before propping Leon up against the wall so the blood wouldn’t be pooling at his shoulder and then looked around, centering himself.

He— needed to leave.

The fact sunk badly into his gut. Chris knew he would be back, but he needed to scout ahead and make sure nothing could sneak up on them. Leon was unable to protect himself right now, and Chris couldn’t face down an alligator with the limited ammo on his person. He’d talked big to Agent Ada, but staying perfectly put wouldn’t work either. He needed to go ahead and make sure there was nothing that could fuck them over while Leon was injured, awake or not.

“I’ll be back,” he promised Leon’s still form, hating himself for leaving but know he actually did have to go. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Chris steadied himself, allowed one last long glance at the kid that was worming his way into every corner of Chris’s psyche, and then turned and tried out that elevator Agent Ada had just completely ignored. He was going to be back before Leon woke up or he’d never forgive himself.

. . .

Honestly, Chris felt like he should be used to things going wrong so quickly by now. If the Spencer Mansion had taught him anything, it was to always expect shit to hit the fan no matter how confident he was in his abilities. 

After coming across a convoluted puzzle of chess and electrical parts in the monitor room, Chris had been forced to double back and only discover _more_ problems. Some godforsaken cable car, a twisted maze of the sewers, a way back to the police station that had Chris’s head spinning, monsters that really reminded Chris of that thing Leon had fought in the machinery room, and also the terrifying fact that Chris had made a drop down to this level that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to climb back up. The need to get back to Leon was ever-present, but he didn’t know _how._

“This just keeps getting better,” he grumbled to himself as a zombie burst from the waters and grabbed for him with a yowl. He fired the Lightning Hawk that was newly modded and working like a charm, took pleasure in watching the skull explode. Now that he had a definite mission to protect, he found himself feeling less and less guilt for putting down zombies. Yes, they were people, and sometimes people he’d known, but he was starting to make peace with the fact that the walking corpses weren’t his friends anymore and just something else entirely. It was easier if he just imagined one of these things sinking their teeth into Leon— the rage he felt at the vision was more than enough to push past any lingering attachments he could have. 

Chris sighed and set to work with the small puzzle before him— using the king pawn to try and get to the fucking flamethrower that was behind a convoluted maze of gates. He had several questions: why were the gates a maze; why did he have to use chess-piece keys to open the doors; _why was there a flamethrower down in the sewers with flammable gas galore?_ It didn’t make sense and he was sure it was a grotesque health code violation on several accounts, but he wasn’t going to look a gifted horse in the mouth. After fighting those bulbous monsters that spat alien-esque parasites into the sewage, Chris was going to take any weapon he could get his hands on. 

He figured out how he could get in after a long moment of staring and begging his brain to function. It was hard to solve puzzles when half of his thoughts were back with Leon, unable to push the sight of the young man slumped against the wall and breathing shallowly from his thoughts. That, and that fucking body, the uncomfortable realization, the way Agent Ada seemed to have known before him. Woman’s intuition his ass— she was not a normal FBI agent. He wasn’t even sure she was FBI at all. 

For one, her mannerisms didn’t work. FBI Agents, while arrogant, weren’t reckless. Unless they were undercover, they would never risk hurting an officer of the law thanks to the mounds of paperwork and trouble it would bring down on their head. The precinct could sue the agency and there’d be so much bad press. Agent Ada’s carelessness for the safety of an innocent cop was pretty much the opposite of how most federal agents work. 

Then there was the fact that Chris was pretty damn positive Annette Birkin wasn’t the threat Ada said she was. Chris hadn’t seen Annette’s name anywhere in the mansion, and Rebecca had reported finding more names in Caliban Cove, and Annette hadn’t been one of them. Chris knew Umbrella had a hard-on for its own work and genius people, so if Annette really were someone who was making the viruses like Agent Ada had said, then Chris was sure he’d have seen her name somewhere. Something told him Annette was a red herring and Agent Ada had ulterior motives for seeking her out. Saying things were classified was a weak excuse. She was hiding something that went beyond classified information— she was lying to them. Chris just didn’t know what about. 

There was a green light from the lockbox and Chris gave a little fist-pump of triumph before opening the unlocked gate and getting his hands on that flamethrower. He normally didn’t allow himself to feel safer just because he had a stronger weapon in his hands, but holding the flamethrower made him feel distinctly invincible and he liked the change. He adjusted to the weight after putting the Lightning Hawk away, and grinned to himself at the sheer power he felt with such a hulking piece of machinery in his hands. Chris aimed it around, making little sound effects to himself while he pretended to set the world aflame, inexplicably giddy when holding this weapon in his hands. It felt damn good, like he was actually untouchable, like he could genuinely protect Leon for a change. Nothing would touch that kid while Chris had his hands on this. Nothing would ever hurt Leon again.

He unlocked the door that was opposite the first gate, grabbed the king piece, and stopped short when he heard the rumbling groan of the undead. He lifted the flamethrower and set his sights on the shambling corpse, not even looking at the face to see if he would recognize them. He just had to take this fucker down and then he’d be back to Leon. He’d find a way up— he’d crawl over walls of pulsing guts mixed with shit if he had to— and he’d get back to Leon before the kid woke up and then he’d find out where to go from there. Deeper into the facility or maybe back up to the city or maybe somewhere else. It didn’t matter, it was Leon’s choice, Chris was going to follow the kid to the end. Before he’d been pretty eager to make Umbrella eat it— now he just wanted Leon somewhere safe. 

The zombie reached out for him with its unhinged jaw swinging and tongue waggling. Chris grimaced at the ugly sight, but reveled in the chance to try out the flamethrower. “Hope you like a good barbecue,” he said cheekily before resting his finger on the trigger and—

There was someone behind the zombie. 

Chris didn’t know who or what or if it was even a human, but a flamethrower was like a shotgun and yet even worse, if there was someone behind the zombie that wasn’t a threat, they’d be hit by the flames too. He didn’t have time to check and see who or what it was but he also didn’t have time not to take the shot and he also didn’t have time to switch weapons and the zombie wasn’t stumbling anymore, it was charging, hands outstretched and getting Chris by the shoulders to hold him still so it could sink it’s teeth into his neck and _was Chris really going to die like this?_ when suddenly—

Four shots rang out and the zombie slumped into Chris with its head a bloody mess of bone and cartilage and Chris looked past the ruined neck to see—

Leon fucking Kennedy, awake and breathing, Matilda up and at the ready with deadly intent in his eyes. “Sorry, Sir,” Leon said, not lowering the gun. “I needed to make sure I had a clean shot.”

Chris absolutely and completely fucking hated himself.

Leon had woken up alone, the one thing Chris had wanted to keep from happening and it had anyways. _Leon had woken up alone._

“I didn’t mean to be down for so long,” Leon told him. “You were smart to leave me behind.”

“Fuck you,” Chris fumbled because his brain had shut down and he didn’t know how to respond. “I-I mean, fuck, no, Leon— Leon, I wasn’t leaving you behind. I needed to make sure you were safe, I was going to come back for you, I— am so fucking sorry.” He was tripping over himself and it was obvious, he saw how Leon’s gaze went down to Chris’s shaking hands and Leon’s expression washed over with confusion. “I would never leave you behind,” Chris got out through the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“It’s okay,” Leon told him, lowering his gun to raise his other hand and hold it out in a placating gesture. “I’m alright, it was only a little jarring. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I would never leave you behind,” Chris repeated, needing Leon to believe him. “You gotta know that.”

“Okay,” Leon agreed, smiling a little, this trembling little thing that didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re right, I know you wouldn’t. It was just a bad situation, it’s not your fault.” It was absolutely Chris’s fault, he was the one who had split them up _again._ He’d just been giving himself credit about learning from his mistakes, and yet here he was, fucking up in the same ways again. Don’t split up from Kennedy. He needed to write that on his arm.

“I’m so sorry you woke up alone,” Chris said, unable to let it go. He could picture it, the moment Leon had opened his eyes and seen he’d been abandoned, the way his entire expression would have fallen before he’d told himself it was fine, he was strong enough, he could survive, he was better off being left behind. Leon rationalizing away the pain and convincing himself it was for the best. God, Chris loathed himself. “That was the last thing I’d wanted for you. I’m so sorry.”

Leon took in and then let out a shaky breath. “Honestly, it’s nice to hear you say that it wasn’t on purpose,” he admitted with another one of the tenuous smiles. “I— I should have known better. Maybe Agent Ada would have done that, but not you.” Leon took a step closer, over the zombie he’d shot to save Chris. “Thank you. For telling me.” The Leon was reaching out with a wavering hand, like he thought his touch wouldn’t be accept, and rested a palm on Chris’s forearm. Chris’s entire being tunnel visioned to the touch and all he could feel was the warmth leaking from Leon into Chris that told him the kid was alive and breathing and as resilient as ever. Leon had come after him with a bullet wound and Chris had so much respect for him that it hurt. “What’s the plan, Sir?” Leon asked.

“Up to you,” Chris replied, forcing himself to work past the guilt and focus. “We can either follow Agent Ada into the facility or we can find a way out, head back to the precinct and get out of the city.”

“And just— run?”

Chris grimaced, hating that he knew Leon had already made the decision to stay.

“We can’t just leave Umbrella intact, Sir,” Leon said, looking a little nervous about arguing his point. Chris remembered the cigarette burns and the puncture wounds along Leon’s side. Standing up for himself was probably the reason he had scars at all. “Even if Agent Ada is capable, there’s a lot that could go wrong. She could need us. And if Umbrella walks away from this without any real repercussion, then who’s to say something like this won’t happen again? I know you must be exhausted and I know you must be really tired of this sort of stuff, but— I really think we should keep going. Stop Umbrella, once and for all. Don’t you agree?”

The last thing Chris wanted was for Leon to be disappointed in him. “I’ll follow your lead,” he told Leon. “You’re the one who’s been shot. If you don’t feel physically up to this, then I strongly want to suggest we don’t go. But if you think you can do it, then we’ll do it.”

“I can do it,” Leon stated firmly. “I won’t hold you back.”

Chris shook his head. “You’ve never held anyone back, Officer Kennedy.”

Leon looked like he didn’t believe him. “Which way?”

“I’m— stuck.” He felt silly admitting it, but Leon was decidedly better at puzzles than him. “I’ve got all the pawns that’ll get us through a main waterway and will likely follow wherever Agent Ada went. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch up with her before she gets further than we can reach.” He didn’t know how to get into the facility, after all. “I don’t know what kind of locks we’re gonna have to get past, but I did see a cable car. It said I needed a wristband.”

“I saw that too,” Leon said. “And I saw that Agent Ada has a wristband, beneath the sleeve of her jacket.” Jesus, the kid was sharp. “Do you have all the pieces for the puzzle?” When Chris nodded and held them out, Leon grinned a little. “Want me to solve it for you?”

“Please.”

Leon grinned wider and took the pieces, tucking them away. Chris watched closely for any sign that the movement of his left arm was giving him trouble, but there was nothing, no pinch to Leon’s brow or hiss of pain. He was taking the GSW like a fucking trooper and Chris prayed that didn’t mean what he thought it meant. “On you, Sir,” Leon said.

“It’s Chris,” he corrected uselessly before taking the lead and falling back into the familiarity of having Leon at his back. Finding his way back to monitor room was easy enough thanks to how many times he’d gotten lost in this place. He expected Leon would solve the puzzle in a cinch and then they’d be right behind Agent Ada. The fucking monsters with the writhing heads and giant eyeballs were nothing against the flamethrower, and the whooping laugh of excitement Leon let out when they felled each one made Chris’s heart swell. 

The sewers were hilariously less-terrifying with Leon behind him, and Chris was filled with confidence by the time they reached the monitor room. Chris strode to the puzzle, ready for Leon to wow him, but then Leon let out this noise that had Chris turning and frowning. “Everything okay?”

Leon was at the window that looked into the garbage room beyond, hand pressed to the glass, nose nearly leaving a smudge, and Chris was going to repeat himself when Leon said, “Agent Ada is down there and she’s not moving.”

Chris plastered himself to the glass beside Leon and saw he was right. “She wasn’t there last I was down here,” he told Leon. “Jesus, is she hurt?” He looked to Leon and— saw the kid was undeniably worried. Now his brow was knit upwards with concern and he was chewing on his lower lip, staring at Agent Ada. Something treacherous slid into Chris’s chest, jealousy wrapping itself around his throat. He clenched his jaw. He hated the way Leon’s blue eyes shone with worry for the woman that had done nothing but think Leon was useless. “We’ll get to her,” he assured Leon. “She’s probably fine.”

“We’re coming, Ada,” Leon told no one. Chris ground his teeth and pulled Leon away from the glass with his hand on Leon’s bare elbow, the muscle jumping beneath his touch. Chris kept his expression like stone and brought Leon to the puzzle. It took Leon only a few seconds to figure the damn thing out, glancing over the instructions and making a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like pleasure. “Man, you’d think that this many puzzles would mean someone was good at making them, but really they all suck.” Leon’s eyes went wide immediately after he said this. “Of course, I’m not trying to imply anything, Sir. Being under such strenuous circumstances doesn’t help. I just, uh…”

When Leon failed to continue, Chris raised a brow. “Work well under pressure?”

“Yeah,” Leon agreed. “Something like that.” He moved quickly past Chris like he wanted to hide his face and went to the door they’d unlocked. “Let’s get to her,” he prompted. “I don’t think she’d be lying there unless she was injured, and it’s not a good idea for whatever wound she has to be in that garbage. She could go into septic shock.”

Chris wished he could tell Leon about how flippant Ada had been about Leon’s injury but he didn’t want to hurt the kid even for his own spiteful gain. Chris just nodded and stood at Leon’s back, letting the kid lead. There was a winding hallway that definitely didn’t lead to the garbage room like Chris had thought it would, but Leon seemed unperturbed. “That power room,” Leon said as he led. “I’ll bet we can open the door to her from there.” Leon went into the room before Chris and headed to the power panel box, flicking some switches while Chris stood guard at the door. He refused to check out Leon’s ass. That— time and a place, never, Chris Redfield, jesus christ. Leon was all wired concentration as he figured out the power, why was Chris even thinking about—

“Got it!” Leon cried out in triumph. He turned to Chris, smiling wide, looking for something, and Chris was about to tell Leon he’d done a good job when—

A fucking claw made of wet muscles and dripping flesh burst through the ceiling above him, forcing Chris back and out of the power room as flames spread from ruptured electrical parts, separating him and Leon. “Leon!” Chris cried out as thundering footsteps overhead proceeded another break through the ceiling. Leon rolled to dodge, but the fire was keeping him from escaping. Panic slid into Chris’s bones. “Get out of there!”

How could he though? There was a lift gate, but Chris saw no way to open it. The flames reached higher as that awful hand came through the ceiling again. Leon grunted loudly as the inhuman claws scraped his bad arm, and the panic became cold fear. Chris stumbled back and away, running for the monitor room, knowing he’d find a fire extinguisher in there. He could get the flames down and get to Leon and _get him out._ Agent Ada was the last thing on his mind as he all but fell into the monitor room and smashed the safety glass to grab the fire extinguisher that was against the wall. Running back to the power room, he saw— that Leon was gone.

Chris shouted a curse, allowing himself that single moment of unbridled frustration before setting to work on the fire, killing the flames. He could hear the roar of a monster from beyond the lift gate that was now shredded metal, torn away by _something_ that Chris couldn’t name. Gunshots followed the roars and Chris knew Leon was putting up a fight, wished to god that he was there and not stuck with the rising fire. Putting the fires out did nothing for his fear. He counted the shots he heard, realized he didn’t know how many bullets Leon had in the first place. Chris cursed himself again, put out the last of the flames that stood between him and his officer, and then threw the fire extinguisher aside to sprint to where he could hear the fight. A long hallway of concrete, Chris’s feet skidding on the ground as he turned the sharp corner, ran across the grating, and looked down at the battle below.

It was some sort of water purification room with a crane and a huge shipping contain on the chain, a huge platform that operated the crane with Leon stuck, sheer drops all around, and—

That thing, the same fucking thing back in the machine room, the thing that had once been a man with the eyeball in his shoulder, but he was different. The thing had two faces now and the grotesque arm was bigger, more twisted and coiled like Frankenstein’s monster, an amalgamation of body parts that created something terrible. At the end of its disgusting arm were long claws that could tear into bones like they were made of cardboard and each footstep made the ground shake. The second head that was less-human than the first had beady eyes to offset the bulbous, orange eye on the shoulder, three sets of eyes, three lines of sight.

Three eyes that were all fixated on Leon Kennedy, who was standing tall and facing down this monster with grim determination.

“Leon!” Chris screamed, unable to do anything against the piercing terror in his chest. He was about to climb down, about to go after Leon and help, when there was a shout that had him stopping in his tracks.

“Don’t come down!” Leon ordered, his tone sharp and demanding. “I have a plan!”

Chris had a plan too, get down there and _make sure that thing don’t touch Leon._ Leon fired a shot into the eye and disgusting puss spewed. “Trust me!” Leon shouted. “I’ve got this, Sir!”

Chris didn’t believe him, didn’t want to believe him, but then he saw Leon slam a button that was at the controls of the crane before firing twice more into the thing. The monster went down on one knee, stunned, as the crane began to blare a warning before swinging around and slamming the container on the end of its chain into the monster, nearly knocking it off the platform. The thing barely held on, clinging to the shipping container, and regained its footing as the crane went back to its original position with the monster still on the same platform as Leon, but it was considerably slower, considerable heavier, _considerably weaker,_ and by god, Chris wanted to get down there to help Leon, but if Leon had the plan Chris thought he had, he’d only be in the way. 

Chris stood back and pulled at his hair as Leon fired two more shots and got distance between him and the monster. Leon pulled out the shotgun, yelled out for the thing to follow him, taunting it back into the space where it could be hit by the platform again. The monster shrieked and thrashed, Leon rolled across the ground to avoid having his guts thrown strewn on the floor. Chris could hear the kid grunting with the exertion even from here and he was terrified Leon’s stamina would give out before this thing’s did. Leon had a bullet in his shoulder, he’d already had to outrun a gator, _he was just a kid._

Leon hit the button again and the crane blared its same warning, but as Leon brought the shotgun up to stun the creature again, the chink of the shotgun coming up empty was worse than any monster’s scream. “Oh shit.”

Chris whipped out the Lightning Hawk and fire twice into the stomach of the thing, the easiest target from so far away. As it turned to face Chris and fixed those disgusting eyes on him, Chris gave a shout of Leon’s name, then threw the gun as hard as he could. It spun through the air in slow motion, and, for a moment, Chris feared that Leon wouldn’t be able to make the catch with his injuries, but his worries were dashed when Leon caught the gun, spun on his left foot with the momentum of the throw, and brought it up to aim the sights down the monster and fire three devastating slugs into that cesspool of a pupil. The monster shrieked and stilled just as the shipping contained crashed into it. It was thrown back and it struggled to keep a grip on the shipping container. It was suspended over one of the endless drops and as its grip slipped, it wailed, then dropped into the darkness.

Chris prayed that it was gone for good this time.

“Sir!”

Chris looked down to see Leon looking up at him from the platform with that same tired, boyish grin that he’d been wearing when he’d blown the gator into pieces. Leon was watching him expectantly, then raised a hand. “Job well done, right? Gimme a lift?” the kid asked, eyes twinkling. 

Chris knew what Leon was feeling, the cool down from a won fight, the satisfaction and pride at having bested Goliath, how fucking amazing it was to know that skill and valor had saved himself. Chris knew that Leon was riding the high of proving himself to be better than the monster and he knew Leon wanted Chris to be proud of him too. But he couldn’t do any of that. So when he reached down, took Leon’s hand, hoisted the kid up and back onto the walkway with him, instead of telling the kid he’d done good and acting like a man congratulating a fellow soldier, Chris wrapped his arms around Leon’s neck and _clung_ to him. 

“Stop splitting up,” he choked out into Leon’s ear. “My heart can’t take this.”

He felt Leon go stiff in his arms, but the kid relaxed much quicker into his embrace than he had before, and then Leon’s arms were coming up around Chris’s back and holding on tight. “Sorry, Sir,” Leon said, still smiling audibly. “At least you can say you told me so.”

“Jesus, kid,” Chris breathed, allowing himself a moment of weakness and turning his face in, his nose pressed into the skin behind Leon’s ear. He smelled like blood, sweat, and death and Chris knew he probably wasn’t any better off. One of Chris’s hands went up from Leon’s neck to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, pulling Leon’s face into his own neck, just trying to get as close as physically possible while still maintaining his fragile sanity. Leon was alive in his arms and even for all of these devils and horrific nightmares, nothing was going to change that. Leon Kennedy was a force of nature and Chris was just lucky to have Leon at his side. For all of his experience, Chris wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fight as many monsters as Leon had and come out alive. “Don’t you dare fight that thing again without me.”

When Leon said, “Of course, Sir,” Chris felt it in his bones, felt Leon’s lips moving to form the words against his pulse, and the sudden thrill of intimacy that shot through him had Chris yanking himself away from Leon, moving so quickly that he almost felt dizzy from it. Leon looked startled to be released so suddenly, but the grin wasn’t completely gone yet. “Sorry,” Leon said with a shaky laugh that sounded like he was trying to hide something. What did he have to apologize for? “Guess I’m not used to that yet.”

“Didn’t you get hugged as a child?” 

Oh god fucking dammit, Chris. He regretted what he’d said immediately, knowing the question had been a gut reaction more than a tactful thing to say. Leon’s eyes shuttered and the blue became a little dimmer. Chris winced and remembered the cigarette burns. “It’s okay if you didn’t,” he fumbled to say, desperate to clean up his mess. He said the first thing that came to mind: “My parents died when I was young, so I didn’t get many hugs by them either.”

He’d hoped that would make Leon feel better— he was wrong.

“Oh god,” Leon said. “I’m so sorry.”

Now Chris was just uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter,” he told the kid. “We— Agent Ada needs us. We should get moving.”

Now Leon just looked _worse._ “How could I forget her?” Leon asked no one as he ran back to the power room. Chris followed, chewing himself out in his thoughts for how he’d royally eaten his own shoe. He was really bad with people in general, it only got worse when it was a person he actually liked. It was a miracle he had any friends at this rate.

Leon went to the gate that led into the garbage room, filled with nervous energy as he waited for it to open. “C’mon, c’mon,” the kid muttered under his breath before he had enough room to duck under and drop into the garbage. Chris followed, wincing at the smell that threatened to knock him of his feet. “Ada, where are you?!” Leon called out, voice tinged with desperation. Chris saw panic rise in the kid when there was no response until he heard another call.

“Over here!”

Leon broke down running again and Chris followed. Rounding a pile of garbage revealed Agent Ada sitting up on her side, a piece of ugly metal jutting out for her upper thigh. Chris’s insides flipped as he imagined the pain she had to be in. Even for his dislike for the agent, he didn’t wish pain on anyone, and that shit had to fucking _hurt._ “I was getting worried there for a sec,” Leon said, like he hadn’t been the one fucking left behind, like Agent Ada hadn’t just abandoned him for a pursuit that had ended as badly as Chris had said it would. Leon dropped to his knees beside the Agent while Chris stood behind them, his Samurai Edge up and keeping guard. 

“I can’t get it out.”

That wasn’t a good sign. 

“I-I don’t know if I should,” Leon stammered. “Chris could—”

Chris grimaced and moved to join Leon on the ground and be the one to remove the metal, but Ada’s sharp eyes snapped up and the glare she gave them both had Leon stopping in his tracks. “Just do it, _Leon_ ,” she ordered, stressing Leon’s name pointedly. “I can’t walk like this.”

Leon glanced at Chris like a child waiting for permission from the parent. Chris didn’t let himself get annoyed and gave the kid a nod, then adding on a small smile. He knew Leon could do it. It wasn’t like he didn’t already excel in literally everything he did.

Leon sighed. “Okay,” he said. “It’s gonna hurt. Chris, get the—”

“On it,” Chris said, tucking away his gun to pull out the first aid disinfectant he had left over from treating Leon’s wounds. As Leon took the shredded metal in his hand and Chris doused the last of the gauze in the disinfectant, he watched Agent Ada turn away and grit her teeth. He was distantly impressed with her dedication to her mission. Then Leon yanked out the shred and Agent Ada barely made a sound, swallowing the hurt as Chris handed over the gauze and bandages and Leon quickly wrapped her thigh, touch not lingering for a second. 

“I’m fine—”

“Just relax, okay?”

Agent Ada was being stubborn and Leon wasn’t having that shit. “So what do we do now?” he asked. 

With Leon so close while dressing the wound, Ada turned to face him and— was nearly nose to nose with the kid, her voice lowered and breathy, maybe from pain or maybe from something else. She looked Leon in the eyes and said, “Get yourself out of here. While you still can.”

“We’re not just going to leave you,” Leon replied incredulously as he sat back. Chris was just a little peeved she’d been talking to Leon and _only_ Leon. “Not like this.”

Agent Ada shook her head, exuding hopelessness. “You don’t understand. The situation is worse than I thought.”

“You’re not getting rid of us that easy. You protected me. Now it’s my turn.”

That— was a god damn load of actual fucking horse shit. Chris tried not to let how pissed off he was show, the conversation he’d had with Ada while Leon had been unconscious from a bullet he’d taken for her running through his head. Agent Ada going on and on about needing to leave Leon behind, that Annette was more important, that Leon would be safe even though Chris’s sweep through the sewers had proven that to be a fucking lie. Agent Ada had barely protected Leon and yet here Leon was, riding the false belief to his fucking grave. But Chris wasn’t going to say anything because he wanted Leon to make his own decisions and feel in control and this— was all just some sort of fucking bullshit.

Agent Ada shook her head again. “Didn’t realize we were keeping score…”

_That fucking bitch._

Leon offered her a hand to help her stand and they both went up. When Leon offered his shoulder, she pushed him back, snorting a laugh and saying, “Don’t push it, rookie.” Leon Kennedy was the furthest thing from a fucking rookie and Chris wanted to suplex the Agent at this point, chain of command be damned. If she only knew the half of what Leon had been through—

“Okay, just trying to help,” Leon said while looking to Chris to give him a smile. “Maybe Chris could carry you?”

Ada shot daggers into Chris. “Over my dead body,” she said before starting to move, her limp slowing her considerable despite her best efforts. Chris kept back, letting Ada be lead while he took rear, Leon comfortably safe between them. 

“You boys want to help?” she asked. “We have to get to the NEST.”

“NEST?” Leon repeated while Chris cursed Umbrella’s penchant for cryptic names. 

“Umbrella’s lab,” Ada replied. “Right beneath us. Annette let it slip. That’s where the virus samples are.”

“Where else would they be?” Chris asked, frowning. “Of course they’re in the lab, most scientists wouldn’t just carry that stuff around.”

Ada glared at Chris from over her shoulder, then looked to Leon. “You up for this?”

Leon shrugged, glancing back at Chris again, waiting for that nod of permission, or was he asking if Chris would come too? Of course Chris would come, he’d follow Leon to the end. He gave Leon that nod and Leon said, “I think I can fit it in my schedule.”

“C’mon,” Ada beckoned while Chris fought down a stupid grin at Leon’s ridiculous line. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” Leon replied. 

Agent Ada led them out of the garbage room. “The cablecar’ll take us down to NEST. This wristband’s our ticket to ride.”

“Nice,” Leon said.

“Where’d you get that?” Chris asked. 

“Borrowed it,” Ada simpered. “Anyway, we’re almost there.” She led slowly, the limp almost agonizing as Chris’s nerves about going back into another Umbrella hell hole making him wish she’d hurry the fuck up. At one point she stopped entirely, and Leon was at her side in an instant. “This damn leg,” she grunted.

“Let us carry you.”

“No,” She denied sharply. “That’ll only make me feel worse.”

“Are you sure?” Leon asked. “Even I gotta admit that Chris is more knight in shining armor than anything. Being carried by him would make even me feel more like a king than a liability.”

Chris nearly choked on his own fucking tongue while Agent Ada just looked annoyed. She obviously didn’t like how Leon kept calling Chris into the spotlight when she wanted to just isolate herself and the kid. Chris knew she was trying to use Leon _somehow_ , though he didn’t know the lengths she would go to for it or why. For now, all he could do was stay close and make sure Leon didn’t get roped into anything to serious. 

“I’m guessing the emotional turmoil would be too much, even for a Federal Agent,” he commented idly when Ada failed to say anything. Leon snickered a laugh and Chris tampered down the need to gloat in Ada’s face. Maybe she could get Leon to do stupid shit, but Chris could make the kid laugh.

Then Ada asked, “How’s the shoulder?” and the good feeling was gone.

“Worse than it looks,” Leon said. 

“What a pair,” Ada sighed. “Both got one foot in the grave.”

“Chris could probably carry us both,” Leon pointed out. 

“I have a feeling he’d only willingly carry you,” Ada argued.

“No way— Chris, carrying Agent Ada would be a breeze, right?”

“I’ve got a shoulder for each other you.”

“See?” Leon lagged back a bit, more distance between him and Ada and less between him and Chris. Leon grinned at him and then Chris realized he was holding out the Lightning hawk. “Chris has already beat Umbrella once— he can do it again.”

“You keep that,” Chris ordered. “You’re out of ammo.”

“I wouldn’t want to take your gun.”

Chris put his hand on Leon’s forearm and pushed the arm back towards the kid’s chest. “Keep it,” he repeated in a low voice. “You’ve got seven shots in it, I’ve like five in mine. We’re running thin as it is and I don’t want you relying on just a combat knife. And hey, so long as you have a gun, I’ll know you can watch my back.”

He glanced ahead and saw Agent Ada had stalled even though they were only a few yards from that cablecar Chris had seen before. The woman was watching them sharply with something like disdain. He had an inkling of what her problem was. What Agent Ada had planned relied heavily on having one of them gung-ho for her suicidal mission and she knew Chris was a lost cause so she was focusing her attention on the younger officer, but it was obvious that if it came down to it, Leon would easily choose Chris over her. And she really didn’t like that. 

While Leon looked down at the gun between them, deep in some sort of thought, Chris allowed himself a moment of pettiness and smirked at the Agent over Leon’s shoulder. She scowled and turned away. Chris pushed the gun into Leon’s chest and ducked his head to look the kid in the eye. “Hey,” he called out softly. “I mean it— keep it. I’ll feel better knowing you’re not without a firearm.”

Leon grimaced. “If you’re sure, Sir.”

“I’m positive,” Chris promised. “And that’s not my name.”

Impossibly, Leon gave him a crooked, breathless smile. “Sorry. Just seems like a habit at this point.”

“Break the habit,” Chris replied. “My name is Chris. I’d like to think we’re more than just coworkers at this point.”

“Of course, S—” Leon cut himself off, cleared his throat, blinked rapidly, lashes fluttering. “Chris. Of course, Chris.”

Chris couldn’t pull the smile from his own face as he clapped Leon on the shoulder. “Let’s get going,” he prompted. “Wouldn’t want to leave Agent Ada without her best men, right?”

“Of course not, Sir.”

Ah, well, baby steps. Leon would get there eventually. They caught up quickly to Agent Ada, who was waiting impatiently by the cablecar. “Done with your moment, gentlemen?” she asked, acid dripping in her tone. Leon fumbled out an apology, but Chris glared those daggers she’d sent into him earlier right back at her stern gaze. No way in hell was she giving him shit for that. Agent Ada rolled her eyes, then flashed the wristband she’d “borrowed” in front of the door to the cablecar. The door slid open to reveal a grungy interior with more steps than places to sit, a control panel at the top and bottom and only a single bench in the center. 

“This may be a one-way ride,” Agent Ada told them. “So be prepared, Leon.”

Chris was startling to feel like he was back in high school with Agent Ada’s childish fit of ignoring him. Leon looked back to Chris for another round of permission, to which Chris shrugged. “I’m following your lead, Leon,” he told the kid. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Leon asked even as he went down the steps to the lever that would send them deeper into the underground, into NEST, into Umbrella. Chris appreciated the concern, he really did, and honestly the last place he wanted to be was back within Umbrella’s clutches, but he wasn’t about to let the kid go it alone. “I— don’t want you having to do this again if it’s too much.”

Chris’s heart clenched tellingly in his chest and he gave Leon another one of those smiles the kid seemed to cherish. “I’m with you,” Chris assured him. “On you.”

Leon’s expression fell into that familiar, steadfast, brave determination and he pulled the lever without breaking his eyes from Chris’s. They shared a moment of camaraderie, two men descending into hell for the millionth time that night, side by side and confident there was no where else they would rather be. Chris wanted nothing more than to get his hands on Leon again, feel his pulse, revel in the rushing blood he would feel beneath the skin, and tell himself that they would make it out of this alive as an automated voice told Chris their destination and sealed his fate.

Then Agent Ada let out a noise of pain, loud and disquieting, and Leon was bounding up the steps to be at her side, more of that concern emanating from his body.

“You know what I was thinking?” Leon began as he looked her over, sitting next to her on the bench to check over her wrapped leg. “I can’t wait for the FBI to raid Umbrella headquarters and take those bastards to justice.”

He was doing that thing again where he talked to fill silence and provide comfort, but Ada wasn’t having it. “I agree,” she said evasively. “But to be clear, you’re not working in official capacity. This is a federal case. Once we get the G-Virus, I’m back on my own.” When Leon turned away, visibly frustrated, offended that Ada seemed to think Leon was in it for the glory, she read the situation wrong and said, “Hey, Leon… trust me?”

Leon huffed and shot back with, “You trust me?”

Agent Ada let out a bitter laugh. “Honestly… if I didn’t, you’d probably be dead.”

Chris scowled, knowing the line to be bullshit. “Right,” was all Leon could get out, his voice strangled. Chris moved to stand beside the kid, hoping he could help Leon feel better. Even if Agent Ada saw him as only some cop, Chris knew he was much more. 

“Look, I thought I might need your guys’ help, and I was right,” Ada said quickly, noticing she’d pushed him away without meaning and struggling to recover. When Leon turned to look her in the eye again, she leaned forward. “If you both can secure the G-Virus, I can make sure what happened in Raccoon City never happens again.”

“Wait, you’re not coming with us?” Chris asked. 

“Ada, you said it yourself— it’s a federal case, neither of us don’t have the authority—”

“Leon, look at me,” Ada interrupted, singling Leon out again, ignoring Chris. She was playing her part well and while Chris was confident in Leon’s intelligence, he was sure even he would have fallen for this. There was nothing more addictive than the feeling of being important to someone. “I”m a liability now,” Ada said. “If I’m going to finish this case, you’re the last hope I got.”

“We can’t just leave you here,” Leon argued helplessly. “I meant it, Chris is stronger than you’re giving him credit for, we can make it work. What if you’re attacked, what if you need help—”

Ada moved in before Chris could react, her hand coming up to rest on Leon’s cheek as she— kissed Leon, stopping the man, taking away his voice and silencing him with her body. Leon leaned back, his young blue eyes going wide, stunned, unable to react to the sudden touch of a person he barely knew, the touch of someone that didn’t ask for consent, didn’t ask to have her hands on him. As Chris was also pushed into quiet disbelief at the sheer _unprofessional manipulation_ he was witnessing, he saw Leon’s fingers start to tremble.

Chris saw _red._

He grabbed Agent Ada by the shoulder and yanked her back, not even bothering to be gentle. Agent Ada let out a cry of sharp indignation and brought her hand from Leon’s face to hold it up like she intended to slap Chris for touching her, but Chris caught the wrist and shoved her back down the bench, away from Leon. 

“Jesus christ!” she snapped. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you some manners?!”

“My mother’s fucking dead,” Chris spat. “But even she was around long enough to teach me not to kiss someone without consent!”

“He’s not a child, he can kiss whoever he wants!”

 _“He didn’t kiss you!”_ Chris shouted, advancing, his hand going to his gun on his side because he could’t fucking think through the rage he was feeling and instinct was winning over. “You fucking— you’re his senior, you can’t just go kissing him like that! You didn’t even fucking ask!”

“I didn’t need to,” Ada defended, arms crossing over his chest. “I could see it in his eyes, I knew he wants me!”

Chris couldn’t count how many fucking times he had heard a line like that from rapists. 

“Chris.”

Leon’s voice, so fucking tiny and shaky, tore through the animal instincts that had Chris fighting down the urge to hurt the Federal Agent, repercussions be damned. He looked to the kid— saw how small Leon was, how he was wearing a brave face even though Chris could still recognize the wild look in his eyes— and immediately remembered his suspicions about the kind of environment Leon had been brought up in. God, the raised voices, the shouting, the anger— it probably wasn’t helping at all. 

“I’m okay,” Leon said, forcing another one of those smiles that broke Chris’s heart. “It’s okay, she didn’t mean any harm.”

_”Now arriving at NEST.”_

Chris rounded on his heels to glare at the agent. “You stay fucking put,” he demanded, unable to keep the dangerous edge from his voice even as he was able to keep from shouting. “And if I ever see you touch him like that again without getting his permission first, I’m cutting off fingers.” She didn’t respond, didn’t even dare.

The cablecar door opened and Chris took Leon by the arm, pulling him to his feet and the fuck out of there, away from the Federal Agent that thought she could play Leon like a fiddle and use him for her own pleasure. _How fucking dare she kiss him like that._ Chris wasn’t even jealous, if Leon had initiated the kiss hisself in a controlled way, then Chris would have swallowed down the pain and let it happen, but she’d— she’d just gone for it, she’d just taken what she wanted and didn’t give a damn about what Leon could have to say. How could she have done that? Hadn’t she felt the way Leon had pulled back, how Leon had gone still as stone beneath her lips? God, what if Leon had said something, said no? Would she have even stopped? What if Leon would have let her do it anyways because she was a superior and he was still calling Chris “sir” and—

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Leon repeated, leaning back in Chris’s grip to force him to slow down. “Sir, I mean it.”

Chris couldn’t fucking take it, the self-sacrifice, the way Leon internalized his suffering. He faced the kid and asked, “Can I touch you?”

“Of course,” Leon breathed. “Of course you can, Sir.”

Chris brought his hand up to Leon’s neck, to where that bite was hidden beneath bandages and Leon’s collar, and Leon sunk into the touch, polar opposite to how he’d tried to pull away from Ada. Chris thought of what he knew about the kid, the life he’d led before this, the scars and the way he’d flinch. He doubted Leon had ever been given a good role model or told the truth of his worse. It looked like Chris was going to have to tap in and do his best. 

“That shit,” he said carefully. “Was not okay. She’s your superior and she should have known better. You— are worth so much more than whatever she was trying to use you for. If you don’t want someone touching you, you make them listen, fight back if you have to. You’re worth more than a scumbag that takes without permission.”

“Okay,” Leon agreed, wearing that fake smile and trying to make Chris believe he was fine. “Really, Sir, it’s okay, it wasn’t like she was going to hurt me.”

“People can hurt you without throwing a punch, Leon.”

“It was just a kiss, Sir, it’s harmless.”

“If it’s so harmless, then why did you try to get away?”

Leon’s expression shuttered and he finally gave up on trying to convince Chris that everything was peachy. Leon’s shoulders slumped and he avoided Chris’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he said again, though it was lackluster and painfully a lie. “I just— wasn’t expecting it. Then again, maybe there’s something wrong with me.” He smiled wretchedly and Chris hated it, wished he could get Leon back into the cablecar and out of here, but they were too far deep and there was no turning back. “Being kissed by a pretty girl, being told I have to help save the day— who wouldn’t want that, right? I’m just— no good.”

Chris tightened his grip on Leon’s shoulder and fought the urge to _shake him._ “You shut the fuck up and listen to me, Leon Kennedy— you’re more good than she’ll ever be, more good than me, more good than _anyone._ It doesn’t matter what this world tries to tell you, what bullshit society fed you when you didn’t have anyone else to tell you otherwise, if you don’t want someone touching you or kissing you or _worse,_ you get them away, you understand me? You defend yourself. At any cost. You’re worth more than the disgusting kind of person who would do that shit without consent. Do not undervalue yourself, Leon Kennedy. You’re worth more than all of us combined.”

Leon looked like he was in agony. One hand came up, wavered between them. Leon asked, “Can I—” before he silenced himself and looked down. 

“Can you what?” Chris prompted. “Anything, Leon, I’ll give it to you.” Anything to make Leon understand what he was worth.

Leon, though, shook his head. But he brought that hand up and laid it over Chris’s, holding him in place for a moment. Even through the gloves, Leon Kennedy’s touch felt like some special kind of heaven in the midst of this hell. Chris hated that Leon had to deal with aggressive FBI Agents trying to manipulate him on top of the fucking monsters. This kid deserved a break. “Let’s get going,” he said to Chris. “We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

“She can go fuck herself for all I care,” Chris shot back with vehemence. “But if taking down Umbrella is what you want to do, then I’m with you.”

Leon only looked worse. “Don’t walk to your death just because of me.”

Chris’s mouth became a grim line. “You couldn’t stop me if you tried. On me?”

Leon squeezed Chris’s hand, then let his arm fall away. “On you.”

More than anything, Chris wanted to ask after what Leon wanted from him, what he could give to make things better, but he knew the pressure would be unwelcome and that they’d already risked too much. Knee deep in Umbrella’s ship, in the NEST, they needed to keep their focus or that would be the end of it. Still—

Chris fell into the role of point with familiar dread and promised himself that Leon would know what he meant to Chris by the end of this, one way or another.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT SO i know that i changed the locations of a few key items but the back and forth exploratory element of the RE games, while enjoyable when you're holding a controller, isn't exactly good story telling XD i fudged a few things sue me
> 
> ALSO YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED that this fic is suddenly part of a terribly named series. yes, ladies and gentlemen, i am tucked and sealed away in my grave, gonna just fucking rewrite all of prime canon with Chris in it because i hate myself and i love these men. that being said, the endings aren't always gonna be happy cause overarching plot needs to be a thing :P but i promise it'll be good in the end regardless cause i love them too much to not give them a happy ending truly befitting of how they've suffered
> 
> next chap's the last one!!! thank you so much for reading this mess it's greatly appreciated ;u; i don't deserve y'all you da best

“She put the wristband in my hand when she— kissed me.”

Chris just forced himself to accept the statement and kept shoulder to shoulder with Leon. He was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been here, Agent Ada’s plan would have worked. The way Leon was clinging to him made it was obvious that Leon had always been looking for someone to lean on, someone to take the lead for him, and someone for him to trust. That would have been Agent Ada in a heartbeat if Chris hadn’t been here. To know that Leon was almost neurotically codependent on him in this traumatic event was a little disconcerting and reminded Chris that he absolutely could not take advantage of that in any way. He was lucky Leon hadn’t fallen into whatever trap Agent Ada was laying— now he just had to make sure Leon wasn’t going to fall into a mess anyways because of Chris. 

_”For your safety, please stand clear until the doors are fully open.”_

Chris made a face and ducked underneath the three rising doors, sweepings sights along the area and denying himself the sinking sensation that came with the dissonant familiarity. He guessed that if he’d seen one Umbrella lab, he’d seen them all. Sterile, white walls, LED lights that threatened to give him cataracts, the stench of chemicals and death. His grip on his gun tightened.

_”Welcome to NEST. Enjoy your visit.”_

“Fuck off,” Chris replied to the automated voice under his breath. This looked like an average front lobby with a reception desk that would normally have whatever secretary was unlucky enough to get roped into this job. Chris distantly wondered what was the official way into the lab and how Umbrella managed to have countless workers come down here every day to finish their shifts without anyone in the city noticing. The words “Umbrella Corporation” with the white and red logo stared Chris down. For a moment, he couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Sir,” Leon called out softly behind him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied immediately, regardless of it being the truth or not. “I’m fine.”

Leon paused for a long moment. “Sure.”

The stilted, disbelieving response helped more than any plastic comforts Leon could have given him. Leon wasn’t buying his response, but he wasn’t about to call Chris out either. What a smart kid. “I’m operating under the belief that Umbrella isn’t very creative when it comes to their underground shit. We’ll find a lab, a testing facility, a manufacturing place, the works.”

“If the virus was released by Annette, then this place should be fine, right?” Leon asked. “If it was on purpose, there’s no reason to believe anything could have gone wrong down here.”

That was a fair assumption, except one of the three doors had been broken and Chris was pretty sure the flickering lights and lack of life in the reception area made a damning equation. He turned right and saw blood down the hallway that was revealed to them by the automatic door. “Oh,” was all Leon said when he saw it as well, sounding tired. “That’s— not good.”

“Something tells me Agent Ada isn’t being transparent,” Chris whispered to Leon, acutely aware that literally _anything_ could be down here with them. “When I was in the other facility in the Arklay mountains, there was this plaque— it had the names of all the important and head researches and while there was a Birkin on there, it was William, not Annette. I don’t think Annette is who Agent Ada says she is.”

“But why would she lie about Annette’s involvement?”

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “I’m just saying that we should take everything she’d told us with a grain of salt. I don’t know what her angle is or what she’s really trying to achieve, but if we come across something that goes against what she’s told us, I’m gonna be more trusting of the observations we make than the reality she’s fed us.” He glanced over his shoulder at the kid, raising a brow. “Got it?”  
“Yessir,” Leon replied. 

“Good.” Chris paused. “Also, if she kisses you again, deck her.”

Leon made a face. “I don’t hit women.”

“That’s sexist.”

“That’s… what?”  
Chris grinned, sent the kid a wink. “I’m kidding,” he said. “We’re about to head into the lion’s den— might as well have one last laugh before it’s all over, right?”

“Not to be rude, Sir, but you’re being a bit of a downer.”

Chris squinted and then Leon sent him a wink. That cheeky little—

There was a clatter from ahead, and Chris and Leon both snapped their gazes forward, the levity dying quickly between them. The band on Leon’s wrist glowed an offsetting green in the darkness of the hall. They rounded the corner with light steps— Leon’s considerably lighter— and saw the sign labeling the cafeteria to their right, the door beyond that locked. More groans came from the open door and Chris tightened his grip. Seven bullets in his gun, and Leon had five. Chris had he flamethrower still, but god knew he wouldn’t risk using that in such tight quarters with Leon unless it was absolutely necessary. He prayed they would come across more ammo down here but their luck wasn’t exactly kind tonight. 

“On me,” Chris whispered before skidding around the corner and facing down the— five fucking zombies that would take way more than eleven bullets, regardless of their firepower. “Shit,” he cursed before opening fire, Leon standing firm beside him in the doorway and doing the same. They managed to pick off four, the Lightning Hawk and Samurai Edge just unable to really decimate the spine as necessary no matter what kind of rounds they used. The last one stumbled forward as their clips ran empty, pissed off about its dead friends and still hungry.

_”Our menu is designed for your nutritional needs using our latest biological research. Please enjoy our tasty selection of healthy foods.”_

“I told you to fuck off,” Chris spat at the robotic female as he weighed their chances and wondered if they could just run. He wished he knew this place, wished he knew what they needed and where they’d be able to find it like back in the precinct. His resolve wavered as he struggled to come up with a plan of action, not even knowing where to begin. Leon was still standing beside him even as the last zombie advanced. Chris couldn’t think—

“Ammo!”  
Leon’s shout was the only warning Chris got before the kid was darting forward and ducking quickly beneath the swipe of the undead. A moment of panic went through him even as Leon got well out of its reach and grabbed something from beside a coffee pot. Then Leon was reloading his H&K and Chris finally got with the program. The zombie had turned in pursuit of Leon’s younger flesh, so Chris grabbed it by the shoulder, pulling it around to face him again, and uppercut the son of a bitch. The thing was barely phased, unable to feel pain, but it gave Leon the time he needed to shove in the clip. 

“Eyes up, Sir!” Leon shouted. Chris dropped to his knees and covered his head as five shots rang out and the zombie let out one last gurgle before collapsing, a flailing tongue being the only thing left where the skull should be. “Got seventeen rounds,” Leon told him with an audible smile as Chris stood and wiped brains from his hair. “What does that bring us up to?”Chris held up his empty gun with a wince. “Seventeen rounds.”

Concern flashed across Leon’s face for a moment before he suggested, “Maybe I should take point.”

Well, Chris wasn’t about to take the kid’s gun, so— “Yeah, maybe you should.”

Leon grinned. “I saw a ladder,” he told Chris. “Guess our only way forward is up, right?”

“Your call, Kid.”

Leon frowned. “I’m— not a kid.” Then he turned and navigated the toppled booths and chairs, working his way through the ruined cafeteria, gun up. He took being point seriously and Chris appreciated that, even with how useless he felt without any ammo to his name. He wallowed in how shitty it felt until Leon made this noise from up ahead before facing Chris and holding out his combat knife. “Don’t you bother saying no,” he warned Chris. “I need to trust you have my back, right?”

Chris took the knife with a wince. “Only because I feel like I’m naked without a gun.”

Leon’s cheeks flushed. He quickly turned back to the maze he was traveling and brought Chris to the ladder that looked like it led up into some man-sized air duct. Leon went up first and Chris looked anywhere but the kid’s ass again. Maybe having Leon point was a bad idea for very different reasons than Chris had considered. He quickly followed Leon up and they walked through the duct, the height tall enough for even Chris to stay upright. It was just a few simple turns and then they were dropping down into the kitchen.

“Oh hey,” Leon said as he picked up another knife from beside the grills. “You know what’s better than one combat knife?” He held out the second one to Chris. “ _Two_ combat knives. After all, one is the loneliest number.”

Chris snorted a laugh. “You’re pushing it, Officer.”

“Can’t blame me for trying,” Leon said as he slipped the knife into the sheath on his vest. “I don’t see anything else. We should get moving.” 

While they were up in the air as to where the G-Virus could be, Leon seemed focused on getting a lay of the land. They found an electronic panel that needed some sort of insert in the nap room, a wristband chip for level two access on a dead narcissist of a doctor, and Leon found more handgun bullets for his H&K while Chris found some fuel for the flamethrower, but that was it. This area seemed almost lackadaisical, very little science taking place. A guest ID card had access to this place, so maybe the more important things were happening somewhere else. That electronic woman called out for some doctor, but they received no clue as to where they could find what they needed. 

“It’s like a whole different world down here,” Leon commented as they passed the security room and took down a zombie that was dressed in some serious combat gear. It looked like Umbrella hadn’t been caught completely unaware, or they’d at least had some serious lines defense defaulting for this facility. Beneath Spencer Mansion, Chris hadn’t seen many infected people that looked like they knew how to put up a fight. That had been weeks ago. Maybe Umbrella had learned from its mistakes. “You think people even notice the passage of time down here?” Leon asked. “No windows, all these artificial light, no clocks— just seems a little bit like purgatory.”

“Also you’re creating monsters,” Chris pointed out as kept his sights up. The knife was familiar in his grip at this point even though he still felt pretty useless. There was a door ahead of them that had no label. Maybe they’d finally be getting somewhere. “I don’t know about you, but my conscious wouldn’t give me any rest if I worked in a place like this.”

“I wonder if they all knew,” Leon said. “And I’m not— getting lost in my head again, I promise, Sir, I’m just trying to understand if all of these people really were aware of the awful things being done or if ignorance was beyond bliss in this case.”

It was a good question. Could Chris really believe that this many people were within fully understanding of what was being done or could he hold out on a little more faith in humanity? Both scenarios seemed equally unlikely. “It doesn’t matter,” Chris decided, mostly for himself as they approached the unmarked door. “It happened either way. We can ask questions once we’re safe. My team— they’ll know more than we do. Ask questions later.”

“Of course, Sir.”

He missed Leon calling him Chris. 

“Through there,” Chris said. “Eyes up.”

“You’re the one with the knife, Sir.”

Jesus, the sass in this kid. Chris swallowed down a grin again as Leon approached the door cautiously, waiting for it to open for him. Chris held onto a breath as he waited to see whatever was beyond the door. The door fell away with a hiss— and Chris felt like he’d stepped into some high-budget sci-fi as that held breath was punched from his lungs.

“Holy shit,” Leon breathed as he went in first into the huge, overwhelming room that seemed to drop down into forever. There was a long walkway across an expansive abyss that led to a huge, glass elevator in the center of the colossal room. There were two more doors at the ends with no walkways that led to them, the words East and West Areas above the respective entrances. Down the pit, on the left, was a tall tower of stacked lights and rotating machinery, a mesh of parts that Chris couldn’t even begin to understand. As Leon led him across the walkway, both of them alert but struggling with some sort of terrified awe, Chris meant to ask what that could be when Leon said, “Looks like a generator of kinds, and a serious one. It reminds me of how an engine in a car works. That’s likely the main power source for all for this.”

Smart and pretty— life just wasn’t fucking fair to Chris Redfield. “You know cars?” he asked.

“Tentatively,” Leon replied. “And a little about planes and trains too. Not as much as you would know, I’m sure. Air Force and all.”

Chris could repair a helicopter in a cinch, but he was fucking lost when it came to his own SUV back at his apartment that was probably in shambles at this point. “Right,” he bullshitted, unable to admit to Leon that sometimes knowledge failed him. 

“It’s pretty intelligent design,” Leon added still staring at the— power generator?— more than the walkway in front of them. “With the way that thing moves, I’ll bet it’s generating enough heat to keep the bill on this place low. And since it seems like it’s self sustainable, to an extent, thanks to laws of motions and stuff, I’ll bet that’s how there’s no real paper trail for this place.”

“Dear god, do I wish you had gone anywhere else but Raccoon City,” Chris sighed. “You would have made an amazing cop.”

Leon laughed, the sound coming out like it startled him. “Hell of a first day, right?”

Chis nodded his agreement. “Hell of a first day.”

“We should see if we can get to those other walkways,” Leon said. “I think I see a body over there, someone in armor too. Once we get across into a deeper level, maybe we can figure out where they’re keeping the G-Virus.”

“My best guess is the highest security clearance possible is needed for it,” Chris said. “In Spencer mansion, they had everything sectioned off, structured and organized. The virus will more than likely be kept in some sort of bio-holding area, somewhere secure and hard to get to.” As they reached the center shaft and Leon looked over the controls, they both realized they only had clearance on the wristband to get to the East Area. “I’ll bet you a cup of coffee that the G-Virus is in the West.”

Leon snorted. “I’m not dumb enough to take a bet I know I’ll lose.”

“What?” Chris asked. “You don’t want to buy me coffee?”

There was that flush again, the adorable pink to Leon’s cheeks. Chris was going to back off, let the joke be the joke, when Leon said “This hardly seems like the time and the place to be asking me on a date, Sir.”

Now it was Chris’s turn to flush and sputter over his words. Leon smiled impishly at him and waved the wristband over the control panel, a walkway sliding out that led to the East Area entrance. “We’ll find out what’s there,” Leon said, all business while Chris’s knees wobbled. “Figure out where to go. I’m sure we’ll find a level three wristband or something in here. And then we get the virus and get back to Ada and get the fuck out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Chris finally got out. He followed Leon down the walkway to the East Area and went down at the fallen body of a solider while Leon kept guard. “I think he’s got—” Oh thank the fucking heavens and whoever the fuck was up there, the man had bullets on him for the Samurai Edge. Chris heaved a sigh of relief as he slid one clip into place and tucked the second away in his belt pouch. “Praise God and Allah and whoever the fuck,” Chris said. “I was starting to get worried.”

“Is that a tape recorder?”

Chris frowned and went back to searching, knowing Leon likely had a keener eye than him. He slipped his hands into the vest and found exactly what Leon had asked after— it had been peaking out of the vest itself, a standard audio recorder for the mics in the helmets of professionals. Whoever had come down here had had a job to do that they’d obviously failed. He brought the tape to his ear and listened. Couldn’t gleam much that was actually, save the name Birkin and—

“The G-Virus is in the West Area,” he told Leon, holding up the recorder to offer him a chance to crosscheck what Chris had learned, but Leon waved it off, trusting Chris’s word. “Looks like we really should hope to find something in the East.”

“You’ve got bullets now,” Leon said. “Still want me as point?”

Chris thought about it and ultimately decided, “Nah. You’re doing well enough on your own— hardly even need me. Plus, you’re the one with the key to the city.” He grinned up at the kid and stood. “Lead on, Kennedy.”

Leon nodded and flashed the wristband again to open the door, revealing darkness and blood. 

“Alright,” Chris deadpanned. “I hate it already.”

“Quietly, Sir.”

Leon was right. Matching the kid’s footsteps, then went in through the ruined lobby and Chris ignored the gut feeling that was eating away at him. Something was _wrong_ with this place, something different than everything he’d seen before in Raccoon City. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that they didn’t come across in the zombie apocalypse, more quiet than just zombies in stasis. Chris watched the ground to make sure he didn’t knock anything as he followed Leon into the next room.

They stepped into what was an observation room of sorts, judging by the huge glass wall that faced into a man-made jungle of terror, the terror mainly stemming from the body of a man in hazmat crushed into shuttered glass by what looked like a gigantic passion flower from the Amazon. The leaves and branches and vines behind kept the man suspended in death and Chris felt a moment of pity regardless of the part he’d had in his own end. 

“He’s got the wristband we want,” Leon observed, noticing the purple glow from the man’s wrist before anything else, apparently. “We need to find a way to get him down— maybe kill the plants? Not sure how, though.”

There was a stand to the left, like some sort of speech platform, but nothing else. Chris was reminded of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. He just grimaced and waited for Leon to move on to the next room because there was nothing here. Leon just made a quick glance and headed out of the door to their left into a hallway that—

Had fucking vines hanging from the ceiling. 

Chris was slammed with flashbacks to the Spencer Mansion, the horrific plant that consumed people, which he and Rebecca had killed. His skin crawled as he remembered the sight and sounds of a plant being somehow alive and _moving._ Oh god, if he had to see that again—

“This is special,” Leon whispered with forced levity. He was looking up— looking at what had once been a human body now consumed by eldritch plant life hanging from the ceiling. Chris shuddered and took a step back without meaning to, the fear slithering down his spine. There was a break in the silence that wasn’t Leon’s calm voice— a croaking noise, a deep clicking, the sound of something inhuman approaching on slapping feet, a stumbling out of Chris’s nightmares. He only distantly heard Leon say something else as a genuine _creature_ came around the corner, made of vines and roots and leaves and organs and _sin_ , its loping gait sending animal instincts to _flee_ throughout Chris’s body. He remembered the reports of the people being devoured by that plant— he could see himself in the jaws of the beast, disintegrating like a fly in a venus trap. 

Chris couldn’t fucking breathe.

The thing was closer and Leon— was running away, running behind Chris. The movement had Chris snapping out of his memories and he was about to shout at Kennedy, strong-arm the kid into facing this down with him, when he felt Leon tugging at the flamethrower across Chris’s back. “What the fuck—”

_“It’s made of a fucking grass, Chris, either use this thing or I will!”_

Chris cursed himself for being so stupid and pushed Leon back with a firm hand before bringing the flamethrower over his shoulder, securing the gas, flicking on the kindle, and spraying that disgusting mimicry of life with a gallon of fuel and fire. It writhed and shrieked and collapsed to the ground, kicking and screaming like it was in pain. Chris didn’t let up, the flames so hot and close that sweat ran down the line of his face even as he refused to release the trigger until the creature was a pile of ash. And even then, he didn’t stop until Leon was tugging at the back of his shirt and shouting, “There’s another one!”

Chris brought the flame up to the next creature stalking towards them, smiling manically as it succumbed to the fire and died the same as the first. The glee he felt at having the upper hand over something that had haunted his dreams since Spencer Mansion was— therapeutic, to say the least. He ended the stream of destruction and held the flamethrower up, wiping at his brow and letting the satisfaction fill his chest. He felt like he should say something. “I guess this was why Barry told me my arms-training needed to _branch_ out.”

There was dead silence between him and Leon, then the kid said, “… I cannot be- _leaf_ you just said that.”

The satisfaction welled into absolute joy and Chris was laughing before he could tell himself it was stupid to make so much noise. He really did feel invincible with this flamethrower and his nightmares had finally met their match. Chris leaned back into where Leon was standing firm. “Hope you don’t mind me taking point from here on out— pretty sure this bad boy should be up front.”

“Should name it,” Leon said. 

“Sure,” Chris replied. “You want the honors?”

Leon paused. “Matchelangelo.”

“Sweet jesus, it’s perfect.”

He heard Leon snicker. “Hearing you say nice things like that sets my heart on fire.”

“Oh my god.”

“I think I hear more coming.”

Chris brought the flamethrower back down and forced his head back into the game even as his heart still sung with childlike glee, that little kid getting the attention of his crush. Now that he was point again, he didn’t have to worry about staring at Kennedy at inopportune moments. And at least now he was confident he could defend them both. 

He brought Kennedy out of that hellish room and into—

Another type of hell. 

Fucking dandy.

“This looks like a control room,” Leon said from behind him. “Any ideas?”

Chris had none, but he saw a map. “Drug testing lab,” he read aloud. “There are passage ways we need codes to get into, but that’s fine. I’ll bet we’ll find something for the plants in the lab, possibly the means to create a herbicide.” He looked an odd mechanism that had a circular slot with some sort of tube in it. Leon followed his line of sight and went to the station, hitting a button. A robotic voice announced the release of a serum and what looked like water sprayed over the plants in the jungle beyond. Nothing happened. When the spray cut off, the mechanism pushed the tube out and Leon took it. When Leon looked to him for answers, Chris shrugged. “If we can make something that gets rid of that shit, we can probably spray it over everything and get that guy down.”

“Weed killer versus _Little Shop of Horrors_ ,” Leon said. “Sounds simple enough.”

“We need to get to the lab and get the codes,” Chris told him, grinning a little at Leon’s joke. I’m betting that panel that leads to a way into the lower level will come in handy should we need to hide from anything unsavory.”

“Can we unlock it?” Leon asked.

“Hell if I know— but we’ll find the code somewhere.”  
Leon nodded. “Let’s check out the lab first. Find out where to go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Matchelangelo in the front.”

Chris choked on his own tongue and brought up the flamethrower with extreme effort. What had once been a badass weapon of power was now one of the funniest puns he could remember hearing in ages. He was just amazed he was still able to laugh in the middle of this. 

Pushing into the jungle— called the Greenhouse, apparently— was like getting slapped in the face by a wet dishrag. The humidity was severe even with the limited power in this place. It seemed like the emergency generators were meant to support the experiments and not ensure the safety of the employees, which was pretty par for the course for Umbrella. That invasive clicking could be heard, like some sort of fucked up dolphin, but he didn’t see anymore of the plant monsters. A quick sweep revealed a way down that had a strange sort of symbol-based coding atop it, something Chris recognized they could unlock from within the control room. They made it quickly to the lab that was full of the same equipment Chris had seen below the mansion. Déjà vu was nearly overpowering. Leon moved past him to search the small room and Chris glanced around as well, noticing a piece of paper. He picked it up and scanned.

_Plant 43 Herbicide Synthesis._

Chris laughed, a barking sound that had Leon jumping. “What’s wrong?” Leon asked. “Are you okay?”

Chris held up the paper, unable to believe his luck. “Same shit, different day,” he told the kid. “Rebecca Chambers and I killed planet 42 just a few weeks ago and it was the same process. Make the herbicide and water the plants. Even the synthesis looks the same, though a little easier, if anything. Rebecca handled most of the measuring for me since biochem is her strong suit, but this looks like something even I can handle.” He glanced over the instructions again, unable to keep from grinning. “Empty cartridge in the dispenser, get in the UMB No.21 P-dash-epsilon, then cool. Rebecca had to mix the stuff back in Spencer Mansion, it looks like all the hard shit is already done for us.” He tucked the paper away in his back pocket and directed his grin to Leon. “This is gonna be cake, Officer.”

Even Leon was unable to keep from smiling back. “Fine by me. Seems like it’s about time we got a bit of a break.”

“I’ll bet the cooling element will be below, heat rising and all of that,” Chris said after cutting his eyes around the rest of the lab and not seeing anything even remotely similar to a fridge. “We can’t get into the dispenser, can we?”

“There’s a code, but it’s rubbed off,” Leon said. “Should we head back and get down?”

“No,” Chris denied. “We can get down anytime, I think our main focus should be the first step, which is getting to the dispenser. The code has to be somewhere, right? We have a level two wrist band, that’s general staff and got us in here. We should be able to find it…”

“On a computer?”

That made sense. “That computer was back in the presentation room.”

Leon nodded. “Should we split up?”

Chris gaped at him. “What the— no. No. Why would we split up?”

“I’m not sure,” Leon admitted. “But— I’ve got that bad feeling again.” He ducked his head for a moment to hide behind his hair, but Chris watched something change in Leon’s face, in his head, and then Leon stood firm again, no longer trying to hide. “I’ve got a bad feeling,” he repeated. “And I think we need to be quick about this. I’m not getting lost in my head— I’m trusting my instincts.”

Chris couldn’t argue— all of Leon’s bad feelings had come with bad experiences to back them up. Chris getting bit, the Tyrant, the alligator. Normally gut feelings were a thing Chris took with a grain of salt, but Leon’s gut seemed to be more like a sixth sense than anything. Maybe it was the abuse.

Chris shook off the thought. “If you have a bad feeling, then the last thing we need to be doing is splitting up, but you’re right, we need to get the lead out. Umbrella likes to put timers on their shit even if they don’t announce it.”

“Then we get the G-Virus and get out, together.” Leon nodded. “Got it.”

Chris nodded back. “With me, Kennedy.”

The computer had the code, and all it had taken was a wave of the wristband. Chris felt like having such a simple method of breaking into top secret shit was a bad move on Umbrella’s part, even though it worked out well for them. Leon memorized the odd shapes and inputted both codes— for the dispenser and that hatch that led below— into the system at once. The green lights were definite progress, but as they went back into the greenhouse, the clicking echoed louder than before. “Sounds like they’re getting antsy,” Leon murmured, his voice moving like he was searching the ceiling. “Never gonna get a houseplant.”

“You think this is bad— you should’ve seen its predecessor.” Plant 43 was freaky and all, and the plant zombies— called Ivy, according to a doc Leon had found on that laptop— were definitely not Chris’s next favorite thing, but Plant 42 had had this fucking _mouth_ and vines strong enough to lift an entire person in the air. The Ivy were freaky, but at least Chris had an inch or two over them and Matchelangelo. As they arrived back at the dispenser and Leon brought out the empty solution cartridge to get the right amount, he made a noise of question that prompted Chris to elaborate.

“Back under Spencer Mansion,” Chris began. “There was plant forty-two. A giant fucking thing, probably one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen. Me and my fellow S.T.A.R.S. operative, Jill Valentine, we were able to take it out, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sounds it made. And it had these vines that were basically tentacles out of your worst nightmares. I’ve still got bruised ribs from how that thing would throw me around. Takes more than a few weeks to heal that shit.”

Leon’s eyes snapped from the machine to look to Chris with palpable concern. “Are you—” He stopped. “Well, I mean, it’s stupid to ask if you’re okay to be down here, but I still want to.”

Chris smiled softly. “I can take a couple more hits, Leon, don’t worry about me.”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Leon explained carefully. “I just mean that with what I’ve already seen and how it has me on edge… I don’t want you to walk away from this any worse off. It was why I kept looking to you when Agent Ada kept goading me about coming down here. I know I can handle this because I almost feel like I have no other choice. I’m a cop. Umbrella’s the criminal. It’s my job, more than anything, my moral compass if I’m being vain. But you were suspended and Raccoon City turned their backs on you. You didn’t— you don’t owe anyone anything and you don’t need to be down here. In my opinion, Sir, you really _shouldn’t_ be down here. I— live with the belief that people should only go through hell once per lifetime. You’ve already done your time in hell. You didn’t have to do it again. I just— want to know why you did anyways.”

Chris looked the kid in the eye and knew he had to tell the truth. “I came down here because you did,” he told Leon. “You said it yourself— people should go through hell only once in their lives. I’m not stupid, Leon. I’ve seen countless victims. By my count, Raccoon City is hell number two for you. At least.”

Leon flinched, but to his credit, didn’t look away. “That doesn’t answer my question, Sir.”

“I came down here because I’m not about to leave a man behind,” Chris sighed. “Lieutenant. Branagh told me to get you out of this city and by fucking god, that’s what I’m gonna do. And before you say that I should have told you not to come down here at all, I know that I would’ve had to drag you kicking and screaming. And that’s just something I didn’t want to do.” He paused. “And, shit, Leon. Maybe I’m just tired of Umbrella ruining all the good things in the world. My team and I are trying to take them down outside of this. It seems fitting that I try to finish the job where it all began.”

Leon made a wry face. “If you’re sure, Sir. In all honesty, I don’t like the idea of you doing this for me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because then that just makes me feel like I should’ve said no,” Leon replied. “To have saved you the memories.” He shrugged and turned back to the dispersal machine. “I should’ve been more considerate of you and what you’ve been through. After you worked so hard to keep from me from this, only for me to drag you down into the thick of it— I’m sorry, Sir.”

Chris gave a long suffering sigh. “You got some sort of guilt complex I should worry about?”

Blessedly, Leon gave a crooked smile. “Maybe,” he said. “Would that be a problem?”

“Not if you don’t mind mine.”

“Mine’s bigger,” Leon said as he finished off the measuring the correct amount of UMB and the green liquid was injected into the dispersal container. When he looked to Chris and saw the incredulous face Chris was wearing, his smile widened. “Or is it?”

“Pretty sure I’m bigger than you all over,” Chris snorted.

“I don’t doubt that,” Leon said with a snicker as he took the container and Chris suddenly realized they weren’t talking about their height. Chris’s cheeks flared and he steadfastly kept his gaze away from Leon’s body. He probably was _bigger_ but Leon wasn’t a small man and Chris definitely—

Shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“We’ve got the first part done,” Leon said, inspecting the container like he could understand what was inside. “What was next? Cool it?”

“Down below.” They’d checked out all the upstairs Chris knew of, the only possible place that fridge could be would be down a level. “On me, Kennedy.” 

This fourth trip through the greenhouse broke the levee. Ivy monsters dropped from above, their tendrils writhing as they reached out hungrily even though Chris couldn’t see mouths. Fire put them down as easily as always, and Leon wasn’t even anywhere close to in danger. It felt exceedingly too easy, even for the danger they were still facing. Maybe Leon’s bad feeling was starting to rub off on Chris. Maybe he really should be letting himself be more paranoid. It didn’t help that dropping down the ladder into absolute darkness had his nerves standing on edge. He almost didn’t want to call Leon down after him, but—

“It’s clear.”

Leon jumped and hit the ground gracefully, Chris providing cover even when he couldn’t see a threat. “Wow,” Leon said, looking around this basement that looked like it was meant for heat and water maintenance. “Cozy. Let me check out the back.”

Chris didn’t say anything, his senses alight as he swept corners and moved forward as quietly as possible. He heard Leon moving, but only barely, and thanked the heavens one of them could be light on their feet. There was the distant sound of Leon talking to himself and the shuffle of paper and plastic. He’d found something, that was for sure. Chris’s grip on the flamethrower tightened and relaxed in tandem with his slowly-racing heart. He couldn’t explain the sudden pitch in his sensitivity, but he was worried—

“Found this.”

Chris barely kept from jumping as Leon returned, holding an odd electrical device that was about the size of a lunchbox with dials beneath a display that showed radio waves and five nonsensical words along the top in yellow. He had no idea what he was looking at. “Pretty sure this is what we plug into those holes in the walls we’ve been seeing,” Leon said, apparently leagues ahead of him. “Maybe we can get the power back on in some of these places and unlock a few doors.”

This kid was way too smart to be a cop. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Leon nodded and tucked it away, wedging it between his belt and his body. “If I see a station to test it out, I’ll use it. With your okay, of course, Sir.”

“Stop calling me that,” Chris mumbled as he turned ahead and led Leon out of the basement into a dimly lit hall and locked doors. Like it was cued in, there was another opening in the wall with wires and some sot of code, just like back in the first area, in the north. This place was strangely absent of the undead, so Leon didn’t hesitate in ducking beneath Chris’s line of sight and bee-lining for the panel, pulling out the device. Chris winced as a high pitched tone filled the air, Leon bent over with his tongue peaking out from between his pink lips in concentration, glimmering and more than a little arresting when Leon swiped the tongue across his mouth and wet his lips.

“Got it,” Leon said as he plugged the device into the wall and a tone chirped, the overhead lights flickering on. Leon did this thing with his head like he was resisting the urge throw his fist in the air as he took back the device. “I’ll bet we’ll need this later too.”

“Good work, Leon,” Chris said, looking him dead in the eye. Leon stalled, smiled shakily, and moved on. Chris was going to get the kid used to hearing good things about himself one way or another. They moved further, no longer held back by the dark corners that threatened them with _anything._ It was quiet and manageable and definitely luring Chris into a false sense of security. It almost felt like this place, in particular, had been emptied out to make way for something bigger. 

“Does that say what I think it does?”

Leon’s quieting prompted Chris to look up and see the words “Low-Temp Testing Lab” above a door that swung up for them in a welcoming fashion. “Guess this is it.” He stepped inside first, eyes up, saw nothing, but the chill that hit him was probably worse than the humidity of the greenhouse. He grit his teeth and moved in, still finding nothing, just rows and rows of lab equipment that brought him back to his high school days. He’d had no idea how to work any of that shit then, and still didn’t now. 

“Jesus,” Leon griped. “Who left the freezer open?”

Chris glanced back and realized that Leon was only in a Police uniform T-shirt now, meant for the overbearing summers of Raccoon City, and not the frigid temperatures of a walk-in freezer. He winced, feeling bad, knowing he’d been the one to strip Leon down to dress the GSW. He’d been the one to fail to put back all the layers Leon had been wearing. Poor kid was already going pink at the ears, his fingertips reddening. “We won’t be in here long,” he promised. “Just gotta find a way to cool that fast.”

“Then it’s probably that,” Leon suggested, jerking his head to the secondary room within this one, a wall of glass showing a machine with one of the holes meant for the serum dispenser and a robot claw within. It looked even colder in there, but also safe. The only exit and entrance was the single door that was in the back left of this place, and Chris could easily keep guard with the flamethrower while Leon handled the solution. Plus, Chris wanted to be the one outside the door in case the door broke on them and Chris would have to break Leon out. It would be best for Chris to be on the outside since his bite wound was on his arm but not in an area that was strained when exerting himself, while Leon had been shot in the shoulder, meaning doing a lot of pulling or yanking would be bad for him. Plus, Leon would have a better chance figuring out how to operate that thing than him. It made more sense for Chris to be on the outside and keep guard while Leon went in.

“You go in and flash freeze the solution,” Chris ordered. “I’ll keep watch out here. If the door breaks and won’t open, make a racket— I’ll get you out.”

He’d expected Leon to follow orders to the letter without hesitation as always, so when Leon’s expression flashed white and he didn’t move to comply, Chris’s own bad feeling resurged. “Leon—”

“No, you’re right,” Leon said before Chris could speak. “Sorry, Sir, I just—” 

Leon didn’t finish his sentence and shot past Chris, uncharacteristically heavy on his feet. He went into the freezer without another word and Chris was left outside, alone, in the quiet. 

He’d expected Leon to be in there only a few seconds, maybe thirty top, but as the seconds turned into minutes, his resolve in his plan wavered. Was the machine broken? Leon had seemed inexplicably nervous, but it was only a freezer, right? What was there to be afraid of? There had been nothing inside, right? What if something had gotten the jump on Leon? Oh god, what if the walls were too thick for Chris to hear a cry for help? 

Chris was about to abandon his post at the door to get to the window that peered inside when the door swung open— five minutes and forty-seven seconds— and Leon barreled into him, teeth clattering. “Warm me up, warm me up,” Leon babbled as the force of his movement had Chris pushed against the wall, Leon’s body pinning him, icy fingertips making Chris jump as they took his arms and tried to loop them around Leon’s shoulders. _“Warm me up,”_ Leon begged, and Chris finally got with the program.

God, Leon was _freezing._ Chris squeezed, holding the smaller man tight against his chest, rubbing his palms up and down Leon’s bare arms in a desperate attempt for friction. Leon was trembling, violent shakes of his body that Chris felt in his bones. The kid’s face was pressed into Chris’s neck, sharp puffs of air coming out too quickly to be normal, reminiscent of hyperventilation. Something in there had made Leon panic, but whether it was the cold or the enclosed space, Chris didn’t know. Leon was squirming even closer in Chris’s grip, looping his own arms around Chris’s waist to pull their bodies flushed together, legs wedging between Chris’s thighs, the kid making himself as small as possible to fit inside Chris’s stature. It—

Was tremendously intimate, and Chris hoped Leon didn’t feel Chris’s own shudder through the shaking of Leon’s smaller body. The breath on his neck was sending his nerves alight. They stood together a long moment, Chris counting the seconds again because this was the best torture in the worst way, and the tremors slowly died as Leon’s muscles stopped convulsing in an attempt to regain temperature. And finally, after what felt like ages, Leon pulled away. 

They were so close. 

Leon’s face was only two or three inches from his own, those gorgeous blue eyes standing out like the moon in a pitch black sky against Leon’s pale face. His lips were red and swollen, likely from Leon chewing on them reflexively in the cold. Parts of his body still shook, jolting twitches in the aftermath of being in the cold for so long. Chris no longer felt Leon’s breath on his skin— he felt it on his lips. He could see every individual lash framing Leon’s eyes. He could see everything from this close. Chris could see everything of Leon and only him. 

“I had— a bully.”

Leon’s words were a sigh between them, almost sacred with how low he kept his voice, like he was scared to speak up too loud and bring down some unknown monster’s wrath.

“She would lock me in cold places ,” Leon breathed into Chris, his blue eyes staring into him. “I wouldn’t get out for hours and hours. I just— don’t like being cold anymore.” Chris was so close to Leon that he could see everything— so the moment Leon’s eyes cut away from his gaze and dropped down to Chris’s lips, pupils blowing wide, Chris knew. “I don’t like being cold, Sir,” Leon whispered. “Thank you for warming me up.”

Leon’s eyes were still on Chris’s lips. Chris wanted—

There was a clicking noise.

Leon whipped away, pulling out his gun despite the way his hands were still shaking from the cold. Chris tried to recover from the sudden change in the younger man and lifted the flamethrower again, the lighter burning. “I bet burning more of these fuckers will warm you up,” Chris said, wanting Leon to relax a little again. His lips were burning from where Leon’s breath had pushed into his soul and he wished he could have thought of what to do before the clicking had invaded their private moment. Wet footsteps sounded from beyond the closed door of the lab, that oppressive clicking digging into Chris’s brain and wedging itself in permanently. He’d probably be hearing that in the dark for years to come.

“You ready?” Leon asked, his unwavering voice a strong contrast to the tremble of his hands. Chris would forgive the poor kid. It hadn’t been hard for Chris to realize that the bully Leon had been referring to was more of a mother than anything. “I’ll get the door and get behind you.”

“On me?” Chris asked with a grin he hoped would make Leon feel a little better.

He knew he’d succeeded when the corner of Leon’s mouth tugged upwards and he whispered, “On you.”

. . .

“Think adding ‘weed killer’ to my resume will measure up next to ‘zombie hunter?’”

Chris pursed his lips to keep from laughing as he reloaded the fuel tank of the flamethrower that had nearly run dry at the worst of times. Getting back to the greenhouse control room had been a familiar nightmare, the Ivy coming out in droves like they understood what Leon and Chris had created and how badly it bode for them. The idea that these man-hungry leaves could actually have the sentient need to fight to survive put Chris on edge. Call him old fashioned, but fight or flight was an animal instinct— fauna, not flora. He didn’t like the thought of his salad once having the desire to live only to end up drowned in ranch dressing. 

“I think ‘apocalypse ender’ would be best,” Chris replied as Leon punched away at the monitor with the chilled solution in his hand. “Covers all the bases, don’t you think?”

“Good point,” Leon said. “Though I guess it doesn’t matter. Who knows what’s gonna happen after this?”

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, but I know my team will have a place to send me pretty soon after this. We’ll get you a passport if you don’t have one, see if we can get past any checks, and from there we’ll have an assignment. Umbrella is _deep_ in S.T.A.R.S. and probably beyond, making bioweapons for more than just our government. Wherever we go next, it’ll be up to them.”

When Leon didn’t respond, Chris looked up from checking over all the dials of Matchelangelo to see the kid staring at him with a dull sort of shock. Chris thought over what he’d said and winced. “Unless you’d rather not do any of this again? For which I would _not_ blame you. If you talk to David, he’d probably be able to find you something more low-profile to do, if you can stomach it. It’s completely valid if you’d rather find a quiet villa on the coast, but you— are really fucking smart, Leon Kennedy, and we could really use someone like you. Not that my people aren’t smart, but— well, you’re a better shot than I am. Barry would love to get his hands on you and teach you shit. Jill will be happy to have someone like you around and Rebecca will like it cause you’re closer to her age. Believe me, Leon, if you want to bow out, that’s fine, but— I need you. And so do my people. No pressure, just… I’d really like it if you stuck with me.”

And not just because Chris’s realization of his own feelings had been met by the darkening of Leon’s eyes as he looked at Chris’s lips. There was _something_ happening between them and Chris as loath to let it slip away, professionalism aside. Leon Kennedy was too good for Chris to let go without a fight. 

Leon worried his lower lip. “Please don’t— call me Leon Kennedy.”

Ah, shit.

“Leon S. Kennedy,” Chris corrected. He was pretty sure Leon had introduced himself to Agent Ada without the middle initial, but he’d give Leon as he asked. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. “Hope that didn’t ruin my pitch.”

“I didn’t think you guys would want someone like me,” Leon admitted. “All of you are trained professionals while I’m…”

Chris waited for Leon to continue. When he didn’t Chris did. “A trained professional,” he filled in. “And then some. Just think about it, okay? I’ve grown a little attached to you. I’d like to keep you around, Kennedy.”

Leon was still tearing into his lip. Chris was worried he’d break the skin. “I’ll think about it, Sir.”

“Good. Now why don’t we _kale_ this overgrown bastard.”

It worked. Leon cracked a smile. “That’s the worst one I’ve heard, Sir.”

“Get ready, I’ve got more.” He moved to stand beside Leon and looked to where the canister was still in Leon’s hand, the dispenser ready for them. “Burn it down, Kennedy.”

Leon’s grin brightened as he slipped the canister into the slot and hit the green button, saying, “Yessir.” 

The automated woman announced their action as the sprinklers came down from the ceiling and dispensed the chemical Leon had concocted. The vines and branches immediately wilted, browning and withering away into nothing, and good fucking riddance. The plant that had pinned the hazmat guy to the spiderwebbed glass shriveled and died, the vibrant colors fading within seconds and the body dropping to the ground with a thud. Chris nudged Leon with his elbow and they looked to each other with twin expressions of triumph. It felt good to make forward progress. 

“Let’s upgrade your jewelry,” Chris said. They moved back into the greenhouse— hopefully for the last time— and the clicking was surrounding, but as Chris was riding the high of their job well done, he wasn’t even remotely concerned. Leon, though, paused on the walkway, his brow knitting. “Something wrong?” Chris asked as he turned to walk backwards, eyes on the officer. 

“I’m—” Leon made a face. “Bad feeling.”

“I getcha,” Chris said even though he really didn’t. “We’ll grab this and be on our way. It’s all good.” Leon didn’t respond, just followed Chris while his eyes kept darting around. The clicking was offsetting, but Leon was looking for something more and Chris didn’t know what. He couldn’t concern himself with that right now— he got to the hazmat corpse and dropped to his knees. “I’m guessing you won’t be needing this anymore,” he told the poor guy as he slid the purple chip out from the wristband and handed it up to Leon. But Leon wasn’t looking at him and he wasn’t reaching out for the chip. Chris frowned, meant to ask what his problem was, when he finally heard what Leon had been hearing.

Thundering footsteps.

“Chris!” The glass of the observation room shattered as something huge dropped down. Chris grunted in pain as Leon’s boot collided with his side, kicking him out of the way. The Tyrant landed on the walkway where Chris had once been crouched with the weight of a truck, standing slowly and staring Chris down with its white, empty eyes. It reached out, that giant gray hand smothering Chris’s vision, but then lurched and turned away as bullets smacked into its impenetrable skull. 

“Chris, move!” Leon shouted as he drew the Tyrant’s attention, backing away as the Tyrant now advanced on him. There was fear in Leon’s eyes, that young fear that told Chris Leon wasn’t just seeing Umbrella’s monster when facing down the Tyrant. The fear had Chris clambering to his feet and running past the Tyrant while his attention was still off him. 

The clicking from before had had a source— in front of Chris, between him and Leon’s escape, were more of the Ivy monsters. They were different now, covered in orange globules that pulsed like hearts. Vines whipped through the air, cracking loudly in Chris’s ear. He brought up Matchelangelo and prayed he’d be putting these fuckers down for good. “Can’t stand the heat, fuckers!” he cried out before dousing the stumbling Ivy monsters with the flame, taking satisfaction in the shrieks. “Leon!” he called. “On me!” He planned to gun it, run past the writhing Ivy and outrun the Tyrant. This place was full of close quarters and tight turns, they’d lose him easily, and then they’d get across the bridge into the main shaft, and get the fuck out of here and everything would be fine.

Chris looked back to Leon, intending on relaying the plan, and turned just in time to see the Tyrant drive his behemoth fist into Leon’s face and left shoulder and chest, sending Leon crumbling to the ground with Leon failing to make a fucking sound.

Chris’s vision went white from there, barely thinking as he gathered Leon up and dragged him across the walkway, out of the greenhouse, out of the control room, just— out. He could feel Leon breathing, could feel the man coming back to life in his arms, but he could also still hear those thundering footsteps. The world was a blur and his blood was roaring in his ears, his entire body centralized around Leon and getting him somewhere safe because that punch could have broken something, _anything_ , and Leon couldn’t die here, oh god, Leon couldn’t die. 

The roaring in his ears pitched to a ringing and he distantly felt his own body reaching feverish shaking as he turned corner after corner, the lights blinding him, his sense of direction thrown but still somehow getting Leon _away_ from that thing. There were hands on his clothes, on his arm, touching his skin, a voice in his ear, and Leon was pulling away, but Chris wouldn’t let go because they weren’t safe yet, the ground was still shaking with those footsteps and Leon kept hitting the ground, silent as the dead, every time he blinked. He went through the hall, the lobby, into the main shaft, across the bridge, and—

“Let me go!”

Leon tore himself from Chris’s grip and pushed Chris against the elevator shaft. Chris’s head knocked against the glass and the ringing was finally cut off as he barely kept himself standing. His senses flooded back in stellar technicolor and surround sound just in time to give him the perfect view of the Tyrant breaking through the door of the East Area as the bridge retracted, cutting off its way to reach them. Leon was standing at the controls, steady as a rock, Chris’s Samurai Edge in his hands and up. Chris was almost stupid enough to think they were safe when the Tyrant dug its foot in and _leaped_ across the expanse. Chris shrunk back against the glass, bracing for impact. 

Then Leon fired three shots into the eyes and when the Tyrant hit the edge of their platform, it failed to latch onto anything solid, and tumbled down, dropping into the abyss as silently as Leon S. Kennedy was when he hit the floor.

Chris struggled for breath as Leon stepped back from the ledge, Leon’s shoulders heaving, a formidable _man_ that had felled his fourth giant for the night and ready for another. Leon turned to face Chris and Chris felt like he was pinned beneath the weight of the determination in Leon’s eyes. When Leon held out the Samurai Edge for Chris to take back, Chris took Leon by the wrist instead and yanked him in. “Leon,” he gasped, asking, “I need—“

“Yes,” Leon breathed as his chest slammed into Chris’s. “Please.”

“Oh god.” Chris took Leon’s face in his hands and fumbled their mouths together, desperation making his movements shaky as his own limbs felt unfamiliar. But Leon was steady and melted into the kiss, leading Chris along with the gentle press of his lips and the search of his tongue. Chris shuddered and took Leon by the collar of his shirt, twisting a leg around the back of Leon’s knee and bringing the kid down on the grating below them, straddling Leon’s waist and running his hands up the expanse of Leon’s chest.

“Oh geez,” Leon said as he arched his spine up into Chris’s hands. “I’m not hurt, I’m fine.”

Chris scowled against his lips, wanting to shake Leon and shout, rave about the way his heart had stopped when Leon had been thrown, the terror that would curl in Chris’s stomach whenever Leon was facing down things like the Tyrant, Chris wanted to fucking _scream,_ but instead he sunk his teeth into that lower lip that had been tempting him for what felt like years and growled, “Let me touch you.”

“You, you,” Leon babbled as he looked up at Chris with those trusting blue eyes and laid his hands over Chris’s to drag them lower down his body, past the parts Chris knew from when he’d cleaned the bullet wound to the place Chris hadn’t even dared to look between Leon’s legs. “Only you, _please._ ”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Chris said as he shoved his hand down the front of Leon’s pants and swallowed the noise Leon made as he cupped the bulge, felt Leon buck into his hand, cock hardening beneath Chris’s palm. Chris didn’t know if it was youth or adrenaline that was ruling Leon at this point, but he didn’t care to ask. He rolled the heel of his palm and felt Leon’s legs curl up and close around Chris’s wrist, keeping him there as Leon ground into the touch. Leon let go of Chris’s other hand to loop his arm around Chris’s neck, using him as leverage to arch higher into his touch, coming alive for Chris, beautiful in a way that words couldn’t describe. 

Chris finally got his hand beneath the snap of Leon’s boxers, moaning into Leon’s mouth as his fingertips dragged across the heated flesh, and Leon keened back. He took the other man in his fist, testing the weight, the size, wrapping his fingers around and hoping the drag of his bare hand wasn’t uncomfortable. He broke the kiss to watch Leon’s face carefully, catching the moment that the pleasure hit him, watching Leon went slack jawed and stared up at him in some sort of awe. Did it feel that good or was Leon just awed that Chris wanted to touch him? “Sir?” Leon called out shakily as Chris worked Leon’s cock in his hand, entranced by the way Leon’s expressions moved and twisted with every upward stroke. “Sir, I—”

Leon’s words morphed into a sharp cry as Chris leaned down and sunk his teeth into the soft skin behind Leon’s jaw, tasting sweat and feeling Leon’s cock jump in his hand. He grinned into Leon and kissed the mark he’d left behind, hoping it wasn’t morbid to be biting in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. “Call me Chris.”

Leon whined with need and thrust into Chris’s grip, the quick pump of Chris’s wrist somehow not enough. _”Chris,”_ he choked out, his voice sending a thrill down Chris’s spine. The drag of Chris’s hand wasn’t rough anymore, Leon’s cock was leaking into his palm, precum keeping the friction from becoming too intense. Leon’s hips jerked helplessly and his grip around Chris’s neck tightened as he lifted himself up and closer, trying to get more. “Chris,” he repeated into Chris’s ear. “I-I want you…”

Chris’s heart hammered in his chest, and he hated himself when he said, “Time and place, Kennedy.” He felt the shudder run through Leon, felt Leon’s entire body undulate in time with Chris’s hand. Chris wanted nothing more than to open Leon up and slam inside, feel the man’s body envelope him and wipe all coherent thoughts from his mind. He wanted to cum inside of Leon S. Kennedy so fucking badly that it hurt, but for one, they were underground in a secret Umbrella testing facility, and two, they didn’t have lube or protection. “Time and place,” he repeated, smiling at the way Leon’s face fell despite the pleasure that was still warring for Leon’s attention. Chris twisted his wrist and felt Leon’s thighs spasm around his arm. He moved down for another kiss, wanting to taste Leon again, but was stopped by a hand suddenly covering his mouth. Chris raised a brow at Leon’s audacity and swiped his thumb across the head of Leon’s weeping cock, smirking into Leon’s hand when the man’s lashes fluttered from the sensation. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Leon babbled while still thrusting into Chris’s hand. “I have an idea, please, I wanna—”

Leon cut himself off again and sat up with a struggle, pushing Chris back and away but leaning in again and again to brush their lips. Chris went with it, wondering what the plan was, and then deciding he didn’t personally care when Leon’s hands went to the fly of his cargo pants, dragging the zipper down the teeth and fishing Chris’s own erection from the confines of his pants. “I’m so down for this,” Chris said with a chuckle as Leon’s gloved fingers caught on the heated flesh, hitching Chris’s breath. Leon’s touches were exploratory but not inexperienced, teasing Chris and testing the waters, skillful digits dancing around the head and grazing the vein beneath, driving Chris insane. Then those fingers were gone and Chris wanted to complain until he saw Leon’s hand bringing down the fly of his own uniform pants and that delicious cock Chris had been getting his hand on dropped into view, gorgeous and heavy and a dark red at the tip, precum dripping from the slit, Leon wet with arousal, the glistening reflecting down his cock and spreading between his legs from when Chris had been touching him. “I want that in my mouth,” Chris confessed.

“Oh jesus,” Leon sputtered again, smiling shakily up at Chris from beneath his hair. “Would you be happy with just—”

Leon didn’t elaborate, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs, to his knees, revealing miles of pale skin, those strong thighs trembling deliciously with waves of pleasure. Chris’s mouth water and his hands were moving before he could think twice, grabbing handfuls of those thighs and kneading the muscles with a nearly-bruising grip. “I want these around my ears,” he told Leon, dead serious, digging his nails into Leon and watched Leon’s eyes darken. 

“You’re so— Chris, just—” Leon seemed to have trouble with words when he was like this, speaking with his actions. Leon fell back and away, dropping onto the grate again. Chris meant to join him when Leon turned around, flipping himself onto his knees, hooking his ankles together and squeezing his thighs tightly enough for Chris to see the muscles strain. Then Lean was reaching back with a free hand, taking Chris by the hips, then the cock, and it took Leon actually pulling Chris in and nudging the head of Chris’s cock against the cords of those thighs for Chris to get with the program. “Please,” Leon begged into the air between them. “Like this.”

Chris took Leon by the waist and drove his cock into the tight grip of Leon’s thighs, knowing this was a cheap mimicry of what they both really wanted, but unable to be anything but grateful. He’d wanted those thighs around his ears— fucking them was probably the next best thing. He laid himself over Leon’s back, mindful of the bad shoulder, putting a hand to the bottom of Leon’s spin to press Leon down onto the grating with slow insistence, feeling Leon give willingly. Leon’s face was on the grating, chest down, ass up— and what a fucking perfect ass— so Chris could take him by the hips and fuck into Leon hard, grunting with the exertion as he chased the heat pooling in his lower belly. 

Leon writhed when Chris’s hand reached around to take Leon’s dripping cock in his hand again, the younger man whimpering brokenly as Chris matched the pace of his thrusts with his wrist, fucking Leon into his own hand. “Oh god, Chris,” Leon moaned, shaking from the effort of keeping himself up. Chris draped himself over Leon and pulled down collar of Leon’s uniform to get more skin, more places to put his lips, more ways to taste the other man. He looped his free hand underneath Leon’s hips, wrapped his arm around Leon’s stomach, holding him up and feeling every muscle in Leon’s body tense and give as his moans rose higher in pitch, fucked out little noises that made Chris yearn for a safe place and an empty bed so he could pull Leon part in every way he knew. That slowly billowing heat was now an overwhelming fire in Chris’s gut as Leon gasped out, “I’m close, Chris, I’m gonna—”

Chris felt himself at the edge too, his thrusts becoming erratic into the grip of Leon’s thighs. Chris bent forward, curling around Leon, getting a glimpse of the sight of his cock disappearing into Leon’s body, and he was gone. Chris’s vision went white as his orgasm slammed into him, his senses registering Leon and only Leon. Chris fought through the haze, though, fought against the pleasure, because he didn’t want to miss what was coming next. With his body still roiling in the aftermath, Chris slipped his cock out from between Leon’s thighs, went up on his haunches and pulled Leon up with him. His arm around Leon’s stomach held the man against his body. Chris looked down the expanse of Leon’s chest from over Leon’s shoulder and watched the man work his hips desperately into Chris’s fist. Chris dragged his lips along the line of Leon’s neck up to his ear and nibbled on the lobe before whispering, “I’ve got you, Leon— let go.”

Leon cried out, head thrown back as he came into Chris’s fist, writhing against him with strangled noises dragged from his throat as he trembled with the aftermath. Chris held him through it, kissing and playing with Leon’s ear with his tongue, enjoying the sensation the feeling of every muscle in Leon’s body finally relaxing as he came down. He felt Leon’s lungs heave for breath and ran his hand up and down Leon’s stomach, wishing there was less clothing in the way so he could feel more of that delicious skin. 

Leon’s hand came up to envelope Chris’s with his own, Leon wrapping their fingers together and resting the hands over his rapidly beating heart. Chris kissed the same pulse in Leon’s neck. They shared a moment of quiet, a peaceful second of satisfaction, Leon’s body leaning into his and making Chris feel whole. Leon’s breathing slowed and synced with Chris’s and Chris almost felt like everything was normal. 

“Virus is in the West,” Leon suddenly murmured, breaking the silence. “We need to move.”

The pleasure ebbed from Chris’s bones. Still— he tore a bit of expendable bandage from Leon’s GSW dressing and used it to clean the sticky mess from between Leon’s thighs, wishing he could be using his tongue, but knowing that they had just crawled through the sewers and had been fighting the undead all night. Leon shuddered in his arms all the same as Chris’s fingers scraped across the sensitive flesh. “That was amazing,” Leon breathed, and something cinched back together in Chris’s chest, something he hadn’t even known was in jeopardy. “I— after this.” Leon looked to Chris shyly from over his shoulder as he pulled his pants back up. “Are you— do you still mean it? About wanting me with you and your team?”

Chris had the feeling Leon wasn’t referring to taking down Umbrella together. “I’ll have you any way you allow it,” Chris said as he tucked himself away and wobbled to his feet, legs a little unsteady from the orgasm earlier. He offered Leon a hand, which the man took, and brought Leon to his feet with their chests nearly pressed together. Chris reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Leon’s ear and leaned in slowly to kiss the man, giving Leon plenty of time to pull away and smiling into the kiss when Leon didn’t. “I’m happy to have you fighting alongside me, but— I’d be even happier for you to be more than that.”

Leon matched Chris’s smile and those blue eyes had never looked so bright. “Guess that gives me even more of a reason to get through this, right?”

“I’d rather you survive this for yourself,” Chris said. “But if that’s what it takes, then absolutely.”

This time Leon was the one to move, pressing harder into the kiss and fisting his hand in Chris’s shirt. “I wanna live,” he swore into Chris. “I do— it’s just easier knowing I have something to look forward to.” Then Leon was pulling away, holding out the Samurai Edge for Chris to take. He did, though he kinda liked the look of his gun in Leon’s hands. “Let’s get the virus,” Leon said, voice as steady and strong as he’d looked when he’d fearlessly faced down the Tyrant and won. “And then— well, whatever happens, happens, right? But we’ll be together.”

“Damn right,” Chris said as he checked over the Samurai Edge’s last four bullets. “No splitting up, Leon S. Kennedy. Never again. On me?”

Leon smiled so brightly that it hurt. “On you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **as you may notice this fic is now 8 chapters long not 7 i'm so sorry** i told y'all this was gonna be the last but then it ended up being fucking 16k and i've still got a long ass epilogue to write ugh i'm just sorry for my shitty planning i hope it's not too annoying *the next chap is 100% the last i know what's happening and how long it's gonna take i know my word means shit at this point but trust me next chap is the definite last*
> 
> also this thing is gonna be 100k so fucking yeah man i guess that's a record for me i'll have to see how long it took me to write this thing and do some math but i'm pretty sure i've never managed to write 100k in a month that's kinda cool
> 
> i'm going with Perry canon for the end of this! just little tidbits, also crunching the timeline for Jill and Carlos cause ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ i need them all together it's fine just suspend your disbelief and let me know if this is garbage XD

Leon felt more alive than he had since— he couldn’t remember when.

The blood was singing in his veins, a rush of adrenaline and something heady thrumming beneath his skin, the ghost of Chris’s touch lingering all over his body, everywhere that Chris had put his hands burning him from the inside out. His face, his arms, his chest, his hips— every part of him was searing with the sensory memory and Leon couldn’t keep the stupid smile from his face. He was sure it made him look dopey and far too young and naïve for someone as amazing as Chris Redfield, but he didn’t think he could wipe the smile from his face if he tried. Chris wanted him. Chris had _kissed_ him. Chris had—

Chris stopped abruptly and Leon walked right into his back, the heat of the man’s body that was now intimately familiar bringing flashbacks to Chris laid atop him, driving his cock between Leon’s thighs and sending Leon careening over the edge with words whispered into his ear, a promise of safety and trust that had Leon’s heart stopping. 

When Chris sent a concerned glance over his shoulder at Leon, obviously confused as to why Leon hadn’t been paying enough attention to keep from walking into him, Leon could only keep smiling sheepishly, ears pink. He let his bangs fall in front of his face, feeling like a little kid even though what had just happened at the other side of the walkway they were crossing was _not_ kid-friendly. Leon wasn’t a virgin and he’d been with a guy— _a_ guy, singular, and never again— along with a few women, attempted relationships in high school and a more-serious attempt during his time in the Police Academy. That had ended— pretty recently, in fact, and Leon suddenly couldn’t remember her face if he tried even though he’d been with her for over a year. What—

“Leon,” came Chris’s voice, breaking through his thoughts, brow knit with concern. “Are you…” 

Chris trailed off, the unspoken question completing itself in Leon’s mind. He winced, knowing Chris was right. Leon had gotten lost in his thoughts again, something he’d promised to stop doing. He’d been doing so fucking well, too. 

“Talk to me,” Chris prompted, still not moving forward. They were on the walkway away from the main shaft, heading to the West Area to find the G-Virus and complete their mission. “Getting stuck in your thoughts isn’t safe, Leon, and I know you know this. Maybe— maybe if you tell me what you’re thinking, maybe that’ll help.”

Seemed like a waste of time, but it was honestly the only method Leon hadn’t ever tried to break the coping mechanism because he’d never had anyone he trusted enough to spill his guts to. But Chris wasn’t really like anyone else. This was Leon’s first descent into combat so maybe the connection he felt with Chris was universal for all combat survivors and veterans. He liked to think Chris was special, though. “Do we have time?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He didn’t like the echo in this place. 

Chris turned and faced Leon, squaring his shoulders. “Agent Ada has been waiting this long," he said. “She can wait a little longer.”

Leon grimaced. “I just— before I came to Raccoon City to start my shift, I’d had a girlfriend. She’d been my girlfriend for the time I was in the Academy and she was great and all, but she broke up with me because she didn’t want to follow me to the city. Probably a good move on her part, considering how that ended up and— well, considering I met you.” Chris’s expression didn’t waver, but something in his eyes did. Leon ducked his head. “I was just— realizing that I can’t recall her face.”

His confession was met with silence. Maybe Leon shouldn’t have told him. What kind of monster forgot someone’s face after only a few hours, regardless of what had transpired in the short amount of time? Her name was Heather and she’d given Leon an entire year of her life and only received the annoyance of being awoken by constant nightmares and probably mediocre sex. Leon always did everything he could to do right by the people who gave him the time of day and even thought they could love him, but he constantly worried about coming up short. It wasn’t that he felt like he didn’t try hard enough— he just knew that his baggage was more than anyone should ever be asked to handle. And the same went for—

“To be honest,” Chris said softly after a long moment. “I’m not much better off than you.” When Leon dared to look up, letting the question show in his eyes, Chris smiled sadly. “Why are we here, Leon?”

“To stop Umbrella,” Leon replied without a thought. “Get the G-Virus to the feds and make sure this never happens anywhere else ever again. We’re here to keep Umbrella from ruining anymore lives and we’re going to do it together.”

Even though Leon was positive he’d gotten the answer right, Chris only looked even sadder. Then, “Who did you come into the city with?”

It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice down his spine. Leon couldn’t remember Heather’s face, but he could damn well remember Claire’s, easier to recall than his own phone number. The brave girl who had met his smiles with shaky ones of her own, telling Leon he needed to survive this for her. God, how could he have forgotten her?

“One thing I’ve learned,” Chris said calmly, watching closely as Leon fell apart to the guilt. “Is that in situations like these, it’s hard to keep sight on something if it’s not directly in front of you. The instincts take over, fight and survive and take down anything that tries to get in the way of that. We started out for Claire, we both did. But then the lies and the manipulation and the straight up fucking _evil_ came to light, and Leon… Do you think I don’t love my sister?”

“Absolutely not,” Leon steadfastly denied. “You and your sister— you both came here looking for one another. I don’t have much experience with family, but I know what you and your sister have is special and I know that you would die for her. Why else would you come back, right? You didn’t know the extent but you knew you were coming back to _something,_ and you did it anyways because you needed to get to Claire. You love her. I would never, _ever_ dare to suggest otherwise.”

Chris’s sad smile didn’t die. “Forgetting that girl’s face is your brain sectioning away and cutting off anything that doesn’t relate to your immediate survival. I’ve been operating this whole time down here with you in my thoughts and that’s— that’s it. And you’re right. I love Claire. I would die for my sister in a heartbeat. But I don’t think of her because my brain took the choice from me to ensure that I make it out alive.” Chris rested his hand on Leon’s shoulder— his huge hand, the hand that had touched Leon and made him tremble and cry out— and squeezed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Leon S. Kennedy. You’re doing what you have to do to survive. Once this is over, it’ll all come back and then— then you can make whatever decisions you need to.”

Leon appreciated the full name, but frowned at the implications of Chris’s last sentence. But then he remembered how nervous he’d been to give Chris a definitive yes to joining Chris and his team of— whatever they were. Rebels? Conspirators? Anarchists? Leon didn’t know what to call them but he still wasn’t sure he belonged amongst them. Chris, though only a few years older than Leon, was still part of some sort of elite in Leon’s mind. Maybe it was the lingering “RPD versus S.T.A.R.S.” stigma he’d barely cultivated while prepping himself to work in Raccoon City. Maybe it was Leon’s lack of faith in his own abilities despite how he’d somehow fought countless colossal giants of horror tonight and been the one to survive on his own. Maybe Leon was just stupid. _Maybe he was getting lost in his head again._

“You good, Leon?” Chris asked. 

“I’m good,” Leon replied. Chris had said that once this was over, Leon’s memories would come back. Tonight, though, Leon had been drowned beneath memories he’d denied and tentatively forgotten for years. Maybe the memories that would come back would replace the ones he wanted gone for good. Maybe he’d stop smelling cigarettes and he’d finally feel warm again. Chris’s touch had chased away the lingering grip of the frost, but— well, nothing good lasted forever, right?

Chris seemed satisfied with Leon’s response and turned, leading Leon again. At least Leon could have this. He wondered if he’d have to follow anyone else’s orders he joined Chris’s ragtag group of friends or if he’d even be able to. He doubted anyone would care about him like Chris did. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Chris said, something Leon couldn’t agree with more. They crossed the last of the walkway and faced the doors of the West Area, both of them tense, thousands of possibilities of what could be beyond those doors running through their minds— or Leon’s, at least. He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse. He’d already blown up a giant alligator for Pete’s sake. Chris nodded to Leon, who stepped forward and flashed the wristband. The doors swung open with a chirp.

There was only darkness and blood in front of them. A fallen soldier dressed in black combat gear like the others they’d found was slumped against the wall with what looked like a cassette tape near his foot. Leon frowned as Chris stooped to pick it up after searching the body for bullets and finding an entire clip along with some shotgun shells. “Who had time to make a tape for the helmet footage?” Chris asked. “And these guys— they’re military, absolutely, but not like any special forces I’ve seen. Red filters for goggles is extremely impractical. And we’ve seen, what? Four of them? Five? That’s a small squad. I’m pretty sure they’re Umbrella, but not like the normal security we’ve seen. They had something else to do.”

“Do you think they were sent with an ulterior motive?” Leon asked, trying to figure out Chris’s suspicions. 

“I think that this really isn’t as cut and dry as Agent Ada made it out to be,” Chris explained. “I think that these men were sent after something. There’s no other reason for them to be back here in the West Area without any sort of wristband like yours. Plus, they’re dressed for stealth combat. All black, streamlined access to weaponry, Ventile fabrics. They weren’t here to save the day or protect. They were here for _something_ and they wanted to do it quietly.”

Leon nodded along with Chris’s argument, finding it sound. “So what do we do?”

Chris shook his head. “Take this tape— maybe it has some evidence on it Agent Ada can use. Maybe it’ll clue is in as to why she’s looking for Annette Birkin rather than William.”

“Could Annette be a red herring?” Leon posed carefully. “FBI was able to find the scapegoat, not the facts. You only know because you were _there_ while this seems like the first time FBI has been physically involved. Maybe she’s operating under the belief it’s Annette when Umbrella was using her as a distraction from the real threat.”

“Seems plausible, but I’m not willing to throw all my cards into one deck yet.” Chris handed him the tape, bringing his Samurai Edge up as he stood again. Leon remembered the feeling of the gun in his hand as he brought down the Tyrant, the kick of the heavy slugs making the palm of his handle tingle like it had been numb. He remembered staring at the gun in his hand for a moment and realizing it was Chris’s faithful weapon, not his own. The satisfaction that had clung to his chest in knowing he’d put down the Tyrant with Chris’s gun— the fitting end he’d given that monster using the bravery Chris had instilled in him and the bullets Chris had given him when Leon’s own weapon had run dry— was still there, thrumming in his veins alongside the memory of Chris’s searing touch. 

God, Leon had it _bad._

“There’re two rooms past here,” Chris told him as he stepped forward as quietly as he could when weighing over two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Leon followed him and grimaced when he saw what Chris was talking about.

One room had one of the electrical panels for Leon’s nifty little doohickey that he’d picked up, along with a television and a cassette player, but the other room had a surgical bed surrounded by lights with clamps at the midway and bottom, meant for restraining an entire person. His wrist and ankles ached from deep within his thoughts. He could still remember the bruises that he would have had to hide. Medical equipment was scattered the bed, needles and monitors and things that completed the mad scientist vibe of the underground Umbrella facility. Leon strode past the room with the bed without looking at it to avoid the memories he knew would bubble to the surface. He went for the electrical panel, handling the problem he knew would be easiest. 

Keyword OSS. Leon brought up the machine and worked the dials, letting the piercing tone sooth away his thoughts. It was easy to focus with white noise. The quiet of Umbrella was damning for his psyche. Even as he heard Chris wince for the noise, Leon took a kind of relief from it and was sorry when it was gone. He plugged the machine into the panel and the lights flickered on with a cheerful chirp. A very inefficient powering mechanism, all things considered, but easy enough for anyone to handle. Maybe it was designed this way for selective power— if Umbrella only wanted certain places functioning, just take the power from all and then allow the return of one. A little cruel, if Leon admitted it, but Umbrella was definitely cruel enough to consider it. 

“We can watch that tape,” he told Chris, jerking his chin to the television, a small one like what would have been in his apartment in Raccoon City, the bare minimum. Leon didn’t like television much. “I guess someone made the tape just for this, right? On the off chance of hope that someone would find him and play it. A last attempt to be heard. Or remembered.”

“Stop making me feel sorry for an Umbrella employee,” Chris griped as he fed the player the tape and flicked on the television. White static, and then the burst of desaturated film footage, “J. Martinez” showing at the bottom right of the screen. Leon stood beside Chris, shoulder to shoulder with the man, soaking in the close proximity and how Chris’s body chased away the lingering cold as he watched the tape. He distantly wondered if Chris liked television or if he preferred movies and if he’d want to watch a movie with Leon.

“Is that—”

Chris cut himself off as they watched the soldiers that they’d been finding around the facility corner a blond man holding a briefcase. The man— Dr. Birkin, as the soldiers called him— spouted some shit about the virus being his, about not letting Umbrella take his life’s work, and then pulled out a gun. Martinez shot the man and the squad leader chewed Martinez out, saying that they’d needed Dr. Birkin alive. They left picked up the briefcase, said the virus was secure, and then the static took over for a split second before a new set of footage was shown.

The camera angle was from below now, from Martinez laying on the ground. A soldier was standing and firing at something advancing. As monstrous feet stumbled into view, Martinez begged the thing to not hurt the soldier as the Monster held that same briefcase the soldiers had taken before and let the contents fall into its face and mouth, consuming whatever had been inside. Then it whipped a horrific arm around and the soldier that had been spraying useless bullets was killed. The splattered remainder of the briefcase contents was eaten by rats as the huge, veiny feet stomped towards the camera right before the feed cut out.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered, leaning into Chris a little because what he’d seen was making him unsteady. “That’s— that’s the thing that’s been following us. The monster. That was— Dr. Birkin?”

“William Birkin,” Chris said, his mouth a grim line. He leaned into Leon as well, turning to face Leon and putting his mouth well within reach if Leon just chose to close the space. “Looks like the good doctor didn’t like Umbrella sending these guys in for his G-Virus. Not sure how he got it in himself in the beginning, but I can confidently say it’s in him now and there’s no way to get it out. He’s got a nasty habit of coming back from the dead, doesn’t he?”

Leon had fought Dr. Birkin twice now and he dreaded having to do it again. “How does the G-Virus do that?” he asked Chris, knowing he probably didn’t have answers. “And those rats— is that how the virus spread? What we fought down in the sewers wasn’t normal zombies, that was something else. And Lickers— is it only the G-Virus or is there something more?” Chris let out a huge sigh that Leon felt through the man’s shoulder. “Chris,” Leon beseeched gently. “You have to tell me. I’m already neck deep in the thick of it. Keeping me in the dark is only going to put me in more danger.”

“You’re hardly helpless,” Chris pointed out.

“If you really want me to join your fight, you’ll have to tell me one way or another.” Chris looked away, but Leon knew he was getting through to him. “I can handle it,” he insisted, reaching out to take the crook of Chris’s elbow in his hand, figuring that was the next best thing if Chris couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’ve proven myself time and time again to you— when will you start acting like you trust me? Like you _really_ trust me?” He didn’t want to sound like he was trying to manipulate, but he and Chris— they went beyond just brothers in arms now. There was no denying that Chris intended for Leon to stick around for more than just the war against Umbrella. If Chris couldn’t tell him what Leon needed to know out of some need to protect him, how could Leon hope to survive this?

Chris was quiet for another moment. Then, “In the Spencer Mansion, we came across information on something called the T-Virus. It— turned people into indestructible corpses that could only be destroyed either through eventual decay or complete destruction of the brain. They seemed to have multiple intentions for the use of the T-Virus, but the zombies weren’t the forefront. Zombies, while tenacious, are difficult to control. There’s no real selling point for an apocalypse if you can’t guarantee immunity from having your throat torn out. What they really intended to make was— the Tyrant.”

Icy cold fear slammed into Leon from the name alone, a gut reaction that he wished he didn’t have. It was easy to think about the terrifying thing when he remembered how he’d killed it, but anything beyond that just overwhelmed him with the smell of cigarettes. Leon shook himself just barely enough to bring his head back and didn’t say anything about the way Chris was looking at him like his heart was breaking for Leon and the conclusions he’d drawn for Leon’s past. Chris was a smart guy, after all, and Leon— well, he wasn’t so good at hiding it tonight like he’d used to be.

“I saw the first one, I think,” Chris continued with a careful eye on Leon. “The first prototype. It was awful, Leon. It was awful because of how it was obvious it had once been human. All of these parts cut away and sewn back together like some twisted Frankenstein experiment. It came after us after a while. I’m pretty sure they have some sort of programmable ability, making them good for the black market. Unlike zombies that just kill without control, these things can pick and choose according to the buyer’s wishes.”

“Ben said in his note that the Tyrant had been ordered to take out the witnesses,” Leon told him. “But if you saw the prototype just a few weeks ago, how can we have a full-fledged one now? Wasn’t Spencer Mansion the site for the Tyrant? Or do you think they’re making them somewhere else?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Chris replied with a helpless shake of his head. “That’s what me and my team are trying to find out. Before I showed up here, my partner Jill sent me a message saying shit was going down in Raccoon City and she’d never managed to get in contact with my sister. I was in Europe at the time, investigating into Umbrella’s other facilities. We’re just starting to find out how deep this goes and how far. So I don’t know a lot, but what I do know is enough to keep me up at night.”

“So the T-virus makes the zombies when it’s meant to make the Tyrants.” Leon sorted that out slowly because— “Why the G-Virus, then? Why go make another world ender when they’ve already got one that isn’t even close to perfect? Just seems like they were getting ahead of themselves. And what’s the point of the T-Virus or G-Virus anyways? I get that Umbrella is a pharmaceutical company, but it’s not like people just stumble across this shit and think that they could make big bucks off the end of everything. There has to be something else. Some real motive that we don’t know.”

Surprisingly, instead of telling Leon to get his head back on track, Chris grinned and bumped Leon with his shoulder. “Using that cop brain again,” he said. “Damn, Kennedy, maybe you should’ve gone FBI instead.”

“And deal with that level of bureaucracy?” Leon smiled back and rolled his eyes. “I’m not that much of a glutton for punishment.”

“Still could’ve used you,” Chris said. “You could’ve been working with Agent Ada rather than me.”

Leon scrunched his nose up, hating the memory of the last time he’d seen the woman. Agent Ada was a formidable woman and an even stronger person in general, but— It had been jarring to go from Chris, who asked every single time before he touched Leon, to Agent Ada, who had put a hand on his face to keep him from moving away when she’d kissed him out of nowhere. He supposed that would’ve worked on him if Chris hadn’t been here the whole time, getting Leon used to having the question asked. And Leon— really, really preferred to be asked now that he knew it was a possibility. “I think I’ll stick with you,” Leon said. “No offense to Agent Ada, but I get the feeling she doesn’t know a lot of good puns.”

Chris did that thing where he pursed his lips to try and keep from laughing aloud. Leon noticed he did that a lot with some of the things Leon said and it made Leon feel a little giddy. “I’m guessing we’re close to the G-Virus,” Chris told him, reminding Leon that they really did have a job to do. “Should probably get moving.”

“Right,” Leon agreed. “Wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting.” 

Chris pulled away from Leon’s grip and Leon was left feeling cold again, but he could handle it so long as he knew it was temporary. Hopefully once they got out of this facility, he’d feel something close to nominal. Chris led him past that awful medical bed that had Leon’s skin crawling with the painful sensory memory of being tied up. He stuck close to Chris only because it helped. Sensory memory was a bitch, but it was easy to override with something more recent, like the way Chris had held him and brought him over the—

The door Chris approached swung open and Leon’s first thought was that this was a battle arena. 

The room was huge— not as large as the main shaft area, but still big enough to make Leon feel tiny. There was a walkway across that had a circular center that seemed wide enough to hold a tank, at least. Below was an obvious floor, pipes and containers and various other machines that Leon could only gleam were making up some sort of reactor mechanism. The ceiling overhead was a dome with the Umbrella logo at the zenith, the symbolism of the placement giving Leon distinct narcissist vibes. 

“Stay with me,” Chris whispered as they crossed the walkway together, Leon turned so his back was facing Chris’s so he could keep eyes on their six. Nothing happened and it left Leon feeling wired as they made it across without a hitch, the door at the other end sliding open for them as well. Leon’s nerves were alight, instincts telling him danger was around the corner. Down the hall were blue lights and some sort of sterilizing liquid sprayed him and Chris as they walked cautiously through. Leon made a noise of disgust before squeezing his mouth shut, not wanting to get any in his body if he could help him. He was still watching their backs and heard another door slide forward. “Jesus,” Chris murmured. Leon figured it was safe to look now, praying it wasn’t anything disgusting. 

Leon turned to face forward and saw organs and limbs kept in vats from a sci-fi and felt a little nauseous. “Appetizing,” Chris griped, sounding like he was on the same page. “Hey— here.” 

Leon tore his eyes from the bits that looked like they’d fallen of Dr. Birkin from one of Leon’s fights with him to take the bullets for the Lightning Hawk Chris seemed to have found— twenty-one rounds. Then Leon’s gaze moved on. The room continued down the left, a circular tower of sorts jutting from the wall with an opening in the center, divots in metal to hold vials. There were tons of those holes, but only one vial actually being held— a small thing with a blue liquid. Leon frowned as he approached it, looking around for some sort of alarm or locking mechanism. He reached out and plucked the vial out of its divot, weighing it in his hand, knowing it was the G-Virus because there really was nothing else it could be. But— “That was easy,” he murmured, glancing back at Chris, who looked just as confused at how simple it had been to retrieve the virus. Leon wanted to think their luck was turning, but that could hardly be the case.

“Don’t check the gifted horse’s mouth,” Chris said. “Let’s get back to the cable car.”

Leon nodded and pocketed the virus. It really did seem unbelievably too easy until an automated voice echoed through the walls, stating:

_Attention: unauthorized removal of a Level Four virus detected. Facility lockdown initiated. Self-destruct sequence will begin when lockdown is complete._

“Fuck,” Chris bit out.

“We need to move,” Leon said. Chris just dug his boots in and booked it, Leon following him with a rising anxiety as an alarm blared. The blue lights had gone red and Leon brought his firearm up, wishing it was Matilda if only for the familiarity. The door swung open for them again and they bolted across the walkway, not wanting to be caught in a self destruct sequence of any time, when the entire room shook and something broke through the roof and dropped down with a roar. 

Leon really didn’t want to turn around. Chris did first and the look on his face only affirmed Leon’s fears. He wondered if it was ever going to end.

Leon spun around on his heel and saw Dr. Birkin well beyond human anymore, his bulging arms making him thrice Leon’s height, the alien face in the center with the huge eyeball familiar. Leon could still feel the ache in his bones from the last time he’d fought this fucker. “You again,” Leon said, snapping the Lightning Hawk up and readying himself to do this shit all over. But then the door behind them, the one they’d been running for, swung open and—

Annette Birkin limped out, holding what looked like a flare gun. “Move,” she ordered, moving past Chris and Leon and facing down her husband. “He’s mine.” She brought the flare gun up and aimed. “This has to end.”

As something heavy shot out from Annette’s weapon and splashed a clear liquid across Dr. Birkin’s hideous body, Leon couldn’t agree more. The monster roared and writhed. Whatever Annette had shot at him was working. Dr. Birkin went down on one knee, groaning in pain. “What the hell is going on?” Chris demanded as Annette reloaded.

“Sorry, William,” Annette said as she limped forward. “You left me no choice.” She raised the weapon again and fire. Dr. Birkin gave one last weak grunt before dropping down, completely still. Leon approached cautiously, wanting to confirm that the thing was actually dead, while Chris stood just behind Annette, watching her sharply. 

Leon crouched down by Dr. Birkin and surveyed the body, watching the steam come off of the muscles like she’d been dousing him with acid. “It shouldn’t have been like this,” Annette whispered, shaking her head. “It’s Umbrella’s fault— this whole mess.”

Leon looked up at her in disbelief. Was she really trying to push away her responsibility? From behind, Chris aimed his gun at her back. “You’re Umbrella too. You’re telling me you weren’t involved in this?”

“Yes,” Annette admitted, finally dragging her gaze from her husband to Leon. She grit her teeth as she shouted, “But we never meant for this to happen!”

_I didn’t mean for him to break his arm, he just wouldn’t listen. I didn’t mean for the concussion, I just wanted him to stop crying. I didn’t mean to burn him, he knows he’s not allowed out of his room. I didn’t mean to keep him in there so long, I just wanted some peace and quiet._

Leon had heard that excuse countless times before. 

“Tell us what happened,” Chris ordered as Leon stood, his control and emotions warring inside. “Right from the start.”

Annette stumbled back and clenched her hands into fist. “It was his work— William’s. He’d put his everything into the G-Virus, he’d sold his soul to it and I supported him through it all, I was helping him perfect the G-Virus every step of the way. And then— Umbrella came. They tried to take it away from him, take away what mattered the most. They tried to _kill_ him for it. And when I followed the gunshots and found him with all the blood and the bullets and the syringe at my feet, I just— I knew what he’d done. I knew he’d injected himself with the G-Virus. All tests of the virus on other subjects had failed, but William knew this virus better than his own daughter. He was able to use it. He wants to make Umbrella pay for how they betrayed him but I— I just want this all to be over.”

Leon stared her down with fury in his chest. Every time he’d faced down Dr. Birkin, every time Leon had felt the threads of his own life slipping away in the grip of that thing, all of that had come from this woman and her sick husband. _We never meant for this to happen,_ she’d said. Most people never intended to pay the repercussions of their sins, but bad things happened to everyone, including bad people. “So you made this monster,” he stated, knowing in his heart that he’d finally found the people to hate. Annette and William Birkin.

Annette looked pleadingly to him, like she thought she could argue in her favor when she had helped create living nightmares for something as insane as a paycheck and a twisted idea of progress. “We made the G-Virus, but we never intended this to—”

“You can spin it any way you want,” Leon interrupted firmly. There was the sound of bones and flesh from Dr. Birkin, but Leon was so caught up in the righteous fury boiling in his chest that he didn’t even notice. Chris was watching Leon like he was worried Leon was going to break. Leon stood tall. “You’re still responsible,” he told Annette. “You’re going to pay for what you—”

Dr. Birkin screamed back to life and snatched his wife up in that clawed arm that Leon knew the strength of all too well. The monster lifted Annette into the air and _squeezed._ Leon heard something in the woman break right before the monster threw her away, the woman hitting the far wall hard. The creature shrieked as a third arm burst from its spine, something that reminded Leon of a scorpion’s tail. “Leon, get back!” Chris shouted just before Dr. Birkin started swinging that arm. Leon ducked low, then rolled, getting out of reach, but also being separated from Chris— and their exit. Then the walkway shook beneath Leon’s feet and the walkway revealed to also be a platform. A platform Leon was standing on and descending with, having no way to get around Dr. Birkin and reach escape on the other side. 

“What are you doing?!” Chris demanded of Annette, who was bent over a console, likely the one to be sending the platform down. 

“We can’t let him get away!” Annette screamed, looking to Leon and meeting his eyes with pity. Leon swallowed down terror as he realized he was going to be trapped below with this thing. Another fight, another giant— god, how long could he keep doing this? He had twenty-one bullets and nothing else, Chris wouldn’t be able to drop down. Leon grit his teeth and resigned himself to another battle for his life alone, when there was a shout from above and—

Chris jumped down from the top to land on the platform, standing at the opposite side of Birkin, descending with Leon. 

Oh thank god, Leon wasn’t going to be alone. 

He vaulted himself over the handrail to reach the bottom of the reactor room before the platform could, hearing the grunt of Chris doing the same beyond. They landed in unison and met eyes from across the room, electricity and adrenaline passing between them. Chris had a clip and shotgun shells and the flamethrower, Leon had twenty-one rounds and a hand grenade. They could do this. 

“Alright,” Leon said to both Chris and the monster as the platform landed and Dr. Birkin flailed his monstrous arms with a wail. “Let’s finish this!”

“On me, Leon!’ Chris ordered. 

Leon, for all of his fears, couldn’t hold back a grin. “On you.” He ran and dove down between the legs of Dr. Birkin, running to Chris’s side, taking the shotgun when Chris held it out for him. Seven shells and the focused barrel, less of a spray but still dangerous to use with Chris so close, same for the flamethrower. The eye seemed to be the best target again, though Leon doubted they could really blind this thing. That third arm was going to be a problem with how it was swung around without care, but as long as one of them was there to break the other out of the grip, they’d survive this. “Got a plan, Chris?”

“Yeah, and I hate it!” Chris grabbed Leon by the arm and yanked him back as they dodged a slam of that third arm into the floor. “You’re faster than me— draw it’s attention and I’ll do the heavy damage!” Chris held out the Samurai Edge, and it didn’t even take Leon a second to realize what Chris wanted. Chris would need the heavier firepower. Leon handed over the Hawk in return and found himself finding the familiarity of Chris’s gun more comforting than Matilda. “Don’t you dare get hit, Leon.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Leon said before darting away and firing a shell into the face of Dr. Birkin. As Chris wanted, the thing turned its bulbous eye to Leon and stomped towards him, roaring louder than a train. The weight of that disgusting eye on him wasn’t any easier to handle. Even as it lurched in the middle of a lumbering step from Chris’s fire it didn’t turn away from Leon. This thing probably remembered him— and it definitely didn’t like him. It swung again, Leon darting back from its reach as the piercing bang of the Lightning Hawk followed. There was the terrible noise of metal scraping and shredding, and Leon turned to see Dr. Birkin was trying to lift something into the air, something that leaked distorted gas, something flammable. Leon took aim and fired a shell into that mess, smirking when the containers caught fire and Dr. Birkin was thrown back. 

Leon expected to keep running, but stalled when the monster’s flesh cracked and it fell backwards like its spine had been severed above the waist. A sickening conglomeration of eyeballs bubbled from its chest cavity, the orbs twitching and quivering. Leon didn’t hesitate in running well within arm’s reach to fire as many shells as he could get into that mass of eyeballs, knowing Chris was across from him and doing the same. Disgusting orange puss spewed from the spot, splattering Leon’s clothes because how close he had to be to concentrate the spray of the shotgun. He fell into a rhythm of squeeze, pump, squeeze, pump, reload, hypnotized by it, not noticing when Dr. Birkin began to move until Dr. Birkin was actually standing and towering over Leon, the eyes shrinking back into his body. 

Leon faltered, staring up into the furious gaze of something so alien that words described him. It glowered down, the beady eyes of the mound head somehow more terrifying than the bulbous one on the shoulder. That horrible claw swiped and grabbed Leon’s entire body, lifting him like a child picking up a toy. Leon whimpered, tried to keep from being too loud, as he kicked uselessly in the air, his arms held tight to his body. He twisted and struggled, but he wasn’t strong enough to break the grip, _he was never strong enough._ As Dr. Birkin tightened his grip and Leon’s aching body told him his bones wouldn’t last forever, Leon prayed death would come quickly rather than a punctured lung. Dr. Birkin leered up into him and Leon could taste iron in his mouth when—  
Three loud shots rang out from just beneath Leon, and Dr. Birkin screamed as bullets found a home in his mouth. It stumbled away and dropped Leon, and Leon waited to hit the cold ground _hard_ , readied for something to finally break under the shock of the impact, when instead, he landed in strong arms that barely gave beneath his weight, hands hooking beneath his waist and legs, a voice in his ear promising, “I’ve got you,” again. Leon wasn’t surprised Chris had caught him, but he was anything less than grateful. 

In front, Dr. Birkin shrieked and more huge eyeballs wormed from out of his flesh, three of them along the monster’s back that zeroed in on Leon and Chris with a piercing stare. Leon tapped erratically at Chris’s arm and the man let him down. Leon barely even wobbled when on his own two feet again. “Thanks,” he said, shaking out his limbs and cocking the shotgun. “If we can get those eyes out again, I’m thinking my bullets will be best.”

“You have three shots left in there,” Chris told him as Dr. Birkin got back to its feet and readied to charge. “Stay away from him until you see the eyes.” They both braced and then leaped to opposite sides out of Dr. Birkin’s reach. Leon rolled with the drop and came up firing with Chris’s gun, drawing Dr. Birkin’s attention again. The monster roared and splayed its three arms out, giving Leon three shots to each of the eyeballs that had popped out of its body. Birkin let out a god awful noise that had Leon worried for his hearing as Chris’s shots landed along the spine, making Dr. Birkin lurch and stumble. It fell forward with renewed vigor, grabbing at another tank of flammable gas. Then Chris was ducking beneath the wildly swiping arm to aim for the main eye at the shoulder, running to Leon’s side as each bullet went in with perfect aim. Dr. Birkin howled and the spine crumbled again, that conglomerate jutting from the chest cavity again. 

“Leon, go!” Chris ordered as Leon sprinted forward and fired his last three shotgun shells into the mass. Birkin snapped back up, Leon dropping to his knees to avoid the claws again. “Get behind him!” Chris shouted as he started firing again. Leon crawled back to his feet and ran for the other end of their arena, going through what he had. Seven bullets left for Chris’s gun, and that was it. He knew Chris had the flamethrower, but with all the volatile equipment and then having to dodge at a moment’s notice, using that would be too much of a risk to either of them. Leon’s brain worked quickly, scanning the area, trying to come up with a plan, when he remembered the hand grenades and Birkin’s love of throwing shit. 

“Chris!” Leon cried out, hoping he could be heard over the destruction as Birkin wrecked a console and screamed its fury to the ceiling. “I have an idea! Draw him over here!”

He didn’t hear a response, but he did hear Chris shout, “Come get some, mother fucker!” before Chris jumped over a swiping arm and ran towards Leon, firing twice over his shoulder for breathing space. Chris reached Leon and looked to him with a harrowed gaze that had Leon’s heart clenching despite the situation. He prayed this was the last time Chris had to fight a monster.

“We need him to lift this,” Leon said, nodding back at the huge tower of metal behind them that looked more decorative than anything else. “Once he does, I’ll throw my grenade and he’ll drop it. I need you out of the way when that happens.”

“Playing bait,” Chris said. “Got it. Get to your position.”

Leon looked up to where Dr. Birkin was stomping towards them. He glanced to Chris, said, “We can do this,” and then sprinted across the expanse of the arena, dropping and somersaulting to avoid the arms. Chris fired what were probably the last of his bullets into Dr. Birkin to keep his attention and Leon took his spot in the center of the arena, waiting for Birkin to lift the sheeting and for Chris to get out of the way. He pulled the grenade from his hip and—

Suddenly realized why Chris hated having to let Leon survive all those fights alone before. 

It was Leon’s plan, he’d been the one to tell Chris to do this, and yet now, standing back here, away from the fight and watching Chris go it on his own, Leon wanted nothing more than to charge back into the thick of it. Even if he wasn’t at the same skill level of Chris, he didn’t want the man to be _alone._ The thought terrified him, and Leon didn’t know if he feared Chris just fighting alone or _dying_ alone. He watched Chris stare down the monster that was Dr. Birkin with heart stopping courage and felt his own hands start to shake. Chris could do this, Chris had fought worse before, Chris was strong. But none of that mattered or convinced Leon it was best to stay back— it didn’t matter if Chris was good enough, he still didn’t deserve to do this alone. 

Then Chris was ducking beneath an arm, weapon put into its holster to show it was spent, and he was running towards Leon with urgency as—

Birkin held the massive piece of sheet metal and wiring that was over two stories high over his head and that eyeball zeroed in on Leon again with the intent to squash him like a bug. Leon felt very, very small.

He clenched his teeth and knocked the pin on his waist, holding the grenade tightly, waiting for the heat, counting down the seconds, and only throwing it once he saw Chris dive behind cover. 

And not a moment too soon. The grenade burst and shrapnel flew just as it hit the floor at the monster’s feet. slicing apart Dr. Birkin like its flesh was made of paper. The monster yowled and its tendons were sliced. The metal it had once intended to use on them dropped onto its body instead, the torn edges acting like blades, crushing and cutting Dr. Birkin into sections. Vocal cords were slit and Dr. Birkin collapsed beneath the weight and the loss of entire limbs, the ground shaking with the weight and orange puss splattering high. It died silently. 

Leon stood there a moment, wondering if it really was over this time. 

_Target has been neutralized. Ending quarantine._

A body slammed into Leon, Chris’s arms wrapping around all of the sore spots and making them smart worse, but Leon didn’t care. He was covered in disgusting grime and runoff, whatever ran in the veins of these monsters, and he probably smelled like the bottom of a spittoon, but he couldn’t care less. Leon wound his arms around Chris’s waist and smiled into the man’s neck. “That was fucking badass.”

“Elevator,” Chris said, pulling away, but still cupping the back of Leon’s neck with a warm hand. “Elevator— now.”

Leon nodded and they both ran for the lift that would bring them back up, Leon acutely aware that the computer had been talking about self destruct for a reason. The lift brought them back up and Leon saw Annette Birkin slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly. He ran towards her, kneeling beside the woman, feeling a sort of pity for her despite the anger at what she’d done. Even though she insisted it wasn’t their fault, she’d still done the right thing and tried to take down her husband. Leon had to commend her for that. “Jesus,” he breathed as he looked down at the bloody mess on her side. “That looks bad.”

“Feels worse,” the woman wheezed. “Believe me.”

God— Leon couldn’t fight down the sympathy even if he wanted to. She’d let them kill her husband after all, and even though her husband had become a monster, people had tried to save worse in the name of love. This was his worst quality, in his opinion. His ability to forgive _anyone._ He glanced back to Chris, who was watching them with a grim expression, looking like he knew that this woman couldn’t be saved, and then Leon turned back to Annette. “Look, what you said… I don’t know how much I believe it, but I’m willing to—”

“Just tell me you’ll destroy that G sample,” she interrupted. Leon’s brow furrowed and he sat back in quietly welling disbelief. 

“No,” he denied. “It’s evidence. It’s going to the FBI.”

Annette, despite her wounds, laughed. “You trust that bitch?”

Behind him, Chris let out this long sigh that spoke more than any words he could have said. Leon couldn’t— “What’s the supposed to mean?”

“She’s not FBI, she’s a mercenary,” Annette told him. “She’s gonna sell it— the G-Virus is gonna go to the highest bidder.”

Leon stood quickly, snapping, “That’s bullshit.” Sure, Agent Ada hadn’t been clear with them and Chris had said he’d known she was up to something, but a mercenary? No way, no fucking way. A mercenary wouldn’t drag them into this and a mercenary wouldn’t trust her entire mission in the hands of two law enforcement officers. No mercenary had the guts to do what Agent Ada had done, there was just—

He looked to Chris again and saw the way Chris was looking back. He wasn’t pitying Leon or trying to convince him Annette was telling the truth— he just looked tired and resigned. 

Chris— had been betrayed by countless people. His commander, Captain Wesker, his Chief of Police, his precinct, his city. Chris wasn’t surprised to know that Agent Ada wasn’t who she’d told them she was. Chris wasn’t surprised to be betrayed again. Leon— wondered if Chris was waiting for Leon to put a knife in his back too. 

“She’s not FBI,” Leon whispered between him and Chris. Chris just looked away. 

Annette cried out in agony. “If the G-Virus… gets into the wrong hands…” She was lowering herself to the ground, she was fucking dying, and Leon didn’t want her to die alone. He went down beside her and took her weak hand, feeling the trembling grip that came with the pain she was struggling with. Annette Birkin laid on her side and then— nothing. She was gone. Her hand was cold in Leon’s. Her hand was as cold as Leon felt. He suddenly ached at the loss of her life, seeing it as a colossal failure even though there was nothing he could have done except have gotten it right the first time he’d tried to kill Dr. Birkin. _If only he had gotten it right._

“We have to get moving.”

Chris’s voice broke through the nothing that was filling Leon’s chest. Everything was too much— the thrill of victory, the pity of murdering a woman’s husband in front of her, the shock of Ada’s betrayal, the remnants of Chris’s touch, sensation of a woman dying in his hand. Everything was just too fucking much and he felt unbelievably tiny and _young._

“Can I…”

Leon nodded his consent without a thought, and then Chris rested his hand on the back of Leon’s neck again. “We’re not giving her the G-Virus,” Chris said. “I don’t know what we’ll do with it— maybe there really is an investigation going on, maybe we should destroy it, maybe we can use it to convince people there’s something happening with Umbrella. I don’t know. But I know we won’t give it to her.”

Leon leaned back into the touch and told himself it would be okay. He stood and hoped the pain in his chest wouldn’t show on his face. Judging by the ache he saw reflected back by Chris, he guessed it didn’t matter. “On you, Chris.”

Chris squeezed the back of his neck in a comforting gesture. “On me.”

_Attention: self-destruct sequence initiated. Use the Central Elevator to evacuate immediately to the bottom-level train platform._

“Well that’s not good,” Chris said before stepping away and pulling Leon with him. They both fell away from the dead woman and made their way through the West Area as quickly as possible, Leon letting the sound of his boots on the floor section away pieces of his brain that didn’t make sense. He kept his gaze on Chris’s back and told himself that everything would be okay, even if he wasn’t sure he could believe it. 

They burst into the main shaft and Leon saw Agent A— just Ada. He saw Ada at the central elevator with some odd device aimed at the controls that had the doors swinging open for her. 

Leon— was fucking pissed.

As Chris stalled, Leon stepped in front of him, slowing from his jog to a steady gate, approaching with deadly intent. He remembered the last time he’d seen this woman, the kiss in the cable car that had made him feel clammy and feverish. It had been one thing to know an FBI agent was attracted to him, but had that even been the case? Leon bet she didn’t give a shit about him. She’d just wanted to use his stupid-kid hormones and heart-on-his-sleeve against him. “I was just thinking about you,” he said as Ada spotted him and then limped briskly towards them both.

“That makes two of us,” Ada replied with relief that Leon didn’t believe. The place shook and part of the ceiling crumbled into the darkness below. “I was getting worried.”

“Leon,” Chris warned, but Leon waved him off. He could handle this.

“You know, we make a good team,” Leon said, barely keeping his own voice under control. “But I gotta ask you something.”

Ada came down the steps to join Leon on the walkway. “The way’s clear— please tell me you got it.”

Leon stopped. “Oh, I got it.” He waited for her to make it to them. Chris was stiff behind him, and Leon knew the man was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Leon leaned back, letting the man into his space, wanting to reassure. Even for Leon’s anger, he wasn’t about to do something stupid.

Ada reached them and held out her arm. “Let me verify the G sample and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“Before we do that,” Leon said, unable to miss the way her eyes were trained on Leon’s hip pouches rather than his face. “I ran into Annette.” He watched Ada drag her eyes away from where she thought the G-Virus was. She really did only care about that. Leon looked Ada dead in the eye and watched her face carefully. “She claims you’re not FBI.”

Ada paused. Then she smiled wretchedly and shook her head. “Oh, Leon.” She reached back and pulled out her pistol, aiming at Leon’s neck. The place shook and crumbled. “Why couldn’t you just hand over the sample?”

Over Leon’s ear, he heard the click of safety coming off. “Get that fucking gun off him,” Chris growled. Leon knew Chris’s gun was empty, but Ada didn’t. 

“Heel, puppy,” Ada snapped at Chris. “Hand it over, Leon.”

Leon brought up the Samurai Edge and aimed for Ada’s shoulder. “You don’t talk to Chris like that,” he said slowly. “Put the gun down before we make you.”

“You don’t even realize,” she said, shaking her head again like she pitied him. “Your precious leader, Chris Redfield? He’s not as perfect as you think. Trusting me was stupid, I’ll give you that, but trusting him is even worse.” When Leon faltered, wondering if she was referring to something else, referring to some nefarious plot that Chris was also a part of, Ada smiled wider and said, “He’s been watching you, Leon. He wants you. You’re nothing more than a piece of meat to him.”

Leon frowned. “Is that all?” he asked. Ada really thought Chris wanting him would be the nail in the coffin? “I thought you were going to tell me something I don’t know.” As stunned disbelief washed over Ada’s face, Leon took another step away so his back was pressed up against Chris’s front left side. He couldn’t see Chris’s face, but he could feel the shaky exhale on his skin. “Drop the gun, Ada.”

Ada’s expression hardened. “I really hoped it wouldn’t end up like this.”

“So that’s all this was?” Leon asked. “We were just pawns to you?”

Ada grimaced. “Look, I’m just doing my job.”  
“And I’m doing mine!” Leon snapped. “So drop the damn gun! I’m taking you in.”

“Hand over the sample, Leon!” Her eyes were sharp, but she looked like she was in some sort of pain. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Behind him and Chris, the platform gave way, and Leon stumbled, Chris’s hand coming up to his back to steady them both. “We need to move!” Chris said urgently, looking between Ada and Leon. “Just stop this stalemate and let’s get out of here before we all die!”

Ada didn’t drop her gun. But Leon— Leon did. He lowered the gun, ignored the noise of panic Chris made, and stared the woman down. “Then shoot me,” he dared Ada. “But I don’t think you can.”

“Jesus christ, she absolutely can!”

Leon ignored Chris again and didn’t look away from Ada. The air was tense, he could feel adrenaline surging in his veins again as the walls and ceiling began to collapse, they didn’t have time. Leon was staring down the barrel of a gun, betting his life on the idea that no FBI Agent or mercenary was willing to risk it all with a kiss like in the cablecar, which meant only one thing— even though Ada had intended to use Leon to get what she’d wanted, she’d never intended to care about him. But she did anyways. She wouldn’t shoot him. 

Ada’s expression wavered. Then she dropped the gun.

Relief lasted only a moment before a shot came from behind Leon and Chris, a bullet slamming into Ada’s right shoulder. They all looked back to see Annette in her last struggles of life, holding the smoking gun. Then the walkway crumbled beneath their feet and Ada was tossed to the ground, sliding down the grating, heading for the edge. “Ada!” Leon shouted as he slid down on his stomach, grabbing her arm before she could plummet below. 

From his pouch, the G-Virus fell into the darkness. Ada watched it go as Leon felt a weight drop down beside him, Chris reaching down and trying to get a grip on Ada as well. But the woman looked up at them both with resigned sadness and Leon knew she wasn’t going to let them save her. “Forget it,” she told him, breath labored with pain from the GSW.

“Shut up— we’ve got you,” Leon ordered as Christ tried to get her other hand. But the injury was too much, she couldn’t even lift it. Chris cried out with some horrible emotion as he struggled to reach her and failed. 

She looked down at the darkness as Leon’s grip started to slip, blood and guts making the traction of his gloves useless. Leon’s heart was threatening to stop in his chest. He didn’t want to feel death in his hand again. Ada looked back up at them with tired eyes. “Take care of him, Chris,” she said before twisting her wrist from Leon’s arm and plummeting into the nothing below.

 _“No!”_ Leon shouted, the lingering life in her hand fading from his grip. 

“Oh god,” Chris said from beside him before grabbing Leon by the arm and side and pulling him to his feet. “She’s gone, I’m sorry, she’s gone.” Chris pulled Leon away from the edge and towards the elevator. “Leon, we have to leave.” As Chris practically carried Leon away as the numbness settled into Leon’s bones again, he caught a glimpse of a timer on the control panel Ada had been messing with. They had less than ten minutes before they’d be blown to hell. 

Chris pulled Leon into the elevator and slammed his fist into the button that would send them down and— this was the slowest elevator Leon had ever been in.

“God dammit,” Chris choked out. “Survive all of this only to be killed by the slowest fucking elevator in the world!” Chris slammed his fist into the glass next and Leon looked up at the man to see tears of exhausted frustration brimming in his eyes. And that—

God, they really were going to die, weren’t they?

“I was listening to my favorite song when I pulled up into the gas station where I met Claire, and my first zombie,” Leon said. The sudden word vomit was surprising, but he felt like there were things he wanted someone to know before he died. Chris was— Chris meant so much to him. He was happy it was Chris. “I was listening to the radio, so I was shocked when it came on. It almost felt like good luck, you know? That everything was going my way despite having just been dumped.” Leon pulled away from Chris’s arms to slump against the opposite wall of the slow-crawling elevator. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

Chris was pacing, overflowing with energy that couldn’t be expended. The man needed to flee from the blast, but instead they were caged. Behind Chris, Leon saw the generators from before were on fire, spinning and malfunctioning. The generator was probably going to be the thing that killed them. 

“When I came into the city,” Chris suddenly said, surprising Leon. “I remember being worried that Claire had rode here without gear. I knew I was coming into more zombies, I know everything had gone to shit, and yet my chief concern was her recklessness.” Chris ran a hand through his hair. His hand was shaking. “Why can’t she listen to me? Half the time, she refuses to wear a helmet. Jeans aren’t good enough, if she fell, the road would tear away her flesh and bone. She should be wearing chaps at least, for fuck’s sake.”

Leon’s chest ached. “I wish I had a family like you.”

“My parents are fucking dead, Leon.”

The smile that tugged at Leon’s lips hurt. “I wish my parents were dead.”

Chris finally stopped pacing. He looked to Leon with a harrowed gaze. 

“I never understood it,” Leon confessed, intrinsically aware of the fact that Chris was the first person he’d ever told about his parents and their abuse of him. “They hated me so much, since the day I was born. I don’t know what I did but I could never fix it, I could never make them love me. They just hated me with everything I was and they acted on it every day. Holding my hand to the burning stovetop, throwing me down stairs and saying I tripped, tying up my limbs so I couldn’t crawl onto the fire escape anymore. I don’t— I don’t know why they hated me.” Leon shuddered out a breath and felt tears in his own eyes, a laugh bursting from his chest that felt like a lie. “And that was before I realized I was starting to like guys too.”

“I wanna survive this,” Chris told him when Leon fell silent. “So I can hunt down your parents and kill them with my bare hands.”

Leon laughed harder and looked up at the other man. “I’m glad it’s you, Chris,” he said. “I’m glad I’m dying with you.”

He’d thought his acceptance would bring Chris some sort of peace— instead, Chris suddenly stood tall, widened his shoulders, and told Leon with vehemence, “You’re not dying here, Leon S. Kennedy.”

Leon’s breath hitched. “My father is named Leon Kennedy,” he told Chris. “I’m just a cheap copy of a monster and I’m gonna die here before I can prove otherwise, so a cheap copy is all I’ll ever be.”

Chris strode forward and took Leon’s face in his hands. Leon realized Chris hadn’t asked to touch him— he also realized he didn’t need Chris to ask anymore. “You’re not dying here,” Chris grit out. “You hear me, Leon S. Kennedy? You’re not dying here. Not now— not ever.” Chris leaned in and stole Leon’s breath with the ferocity of his kiss, and Leon couldn’t bring it in himself to argue. He just melted into the kiss, into the touch he trusted with his instincts, and told himself that it didn’t matter if he never proved he wasn’t his father— Chris knew, and Chris was with him. They weren’t splitting up after this. They weren’t splitting up ever again.

The elevator stopped and Chris tore their lips apart to survey where they’d ended up. 

Some sort of control room that reminded Leon of an airport control tower. Computers and screens at the edges of a circular room and warning labels across most of the monitors. The voice was telling them they had nine minutes left to escape and Leon couldn’t possibly see how since they’d only descended deeper into Umbrella. “We have to run,” Chris told him, breaking away and going first. Leon followed, but he saw something that had him faltering.

On one of the monitors that wasn’t reminding him of his imminent death, there was a woman. “Who’s that?” he asked, going to the control before he could think twice. If there was someone else down here, maybe they needed help. He went to a screen that was filtering static, and then a face— _Claire?_

“Claire!” Leon shouted, hoping to catch her attention. Chris’s boots squeaked with how he skidded to a halt, then the man was running back to Leon’s side, looking at the image with wide eyes. 

_“Leon?”_ came Claire’s voice, a genuine relief to hear. _“You’re down here too?!”_

“Claire,” Chris breathed, his voice shaking. 

“Yeah,” Leon affirmed, so fucking happy for Chris. “Claire, I’m with your brother!”

 _“Holy shit, Chris,”_ Claire said. _“I can’t see him, I can barely see you! Is he okay?”_

“He’s fine, he’s fine, but listen to me— the whole place is coming done. You need to get out. Fast!”

Claire was smiling wide despite the way her breathing trembled. _“Yeah,”_ she agreed. _“There’s a way out!”_ She looked into the screen, into Leon and Chris. _“We can make it! Where are you now?”_

The image fuzzed, Leon couldn’t see her anymore. “Claire!” he called out with a groan of frustration. Why couldn’t any of the useful shit down here work? “You still there?”

 _“Leon?”_ Claire replied. _“Hey, Leon, you’re breaking up. My brother—”_

“Forget about me!” Chris shouted at his sister. “Just get out of here, Claire!”

The screen was static and there was no response. Chris punched the console with a cry of anger and then pulled himself away, taking Leon by the elbow to pull him too. “We have to get to her,” he told Leon, eyes alight with something Leon hadn’t seen since the beginning of this hellish night. Chris Redfield had come into Raccoon City to find his sister, and god help anything that got in his way. 

“We have to get down to that rail the robot mentioned!” Chris ordered as they ran through this lower level of the facility, Leon barely keeping up. Chris had some fucking muscle on him everywhere, when he was ready to sprint, he could _sprint._ They broke through room after room, machinery and piping bursting, fire spreading, they dropped down a ladder, went deeper, Leon could hear the inflectionless voice telling them they’d lost another minute, and—

The door Chris was heading for burst open and the Tyrant slammed through, on fire just like everything else, and overwhelming Leon with cigarettes and the horrific cold of a dark place. 

“Is this a fucking joke?!” Chris demanded, pulling the flamethrower from over his head. “Leon, behind me!” Leon practically hid from the giant as Chris sprayed it down with fuel, his strong body being the only thing between Leon and death. But they had to keep moving, they were running out of time, so Leon grabbed Chris by the back of the shirt and yanked him away. “What’re you doing?!”

“We can’t fight it here!” Leon shouted as he went down another walkway that led to the door they needed, going behind the Tyrant. “We have to move!” He didn’t let go of Chris as they ran into the room and through more mazes of machinery. Another door was in front of them. Leon braced himself, shoulder and arm up, ready to charge through, when fire burst through the door, cutting them off. “Oh shit,” Leon breathed, already turning on his heel to find another way and—

Running right into the fist of the Tyrant. 

_“Leon!”_

Chris’s shout did nothing— it’s huge hand took Leon by the skull, squeezing so tight that Leon—

Lost himself, lost time, lost everything, his head hurt so badly, he felt so small and weak and useless and—

A blast knocked Leon and the Tyrant to the side, then another, and Leon dropped through the floor. Chris jumped down after him, but the Tyrant was left above them, being thrown to and fro by explosions. The grating from above broke away and started to fall. Chris threw his body over Leon’s, shielding him as the grating slammed into the floor just inches from Leon’s arms. God, everything _hurt._

“Gotta keep going,” Chris gasped into his ear before lifting Leon to his feet.

_”Seven minutes remaining to self-destruct.”_

They burst out of the room that was sweltering with fire and into a huge chamber that had a platform at one end with a console atop it. Leon barely had his feet under him, but he ran for the console all the same, recognizing this as a platform designed for lowering large machinery and vehicles down a gradual slope. Probably the safest way for them to get to the train Chris seemed to think Claire was. Leon saw ammo at the far end of the platform, a healthy amount that he hoped they wouldn’t need in the middle of way seemed to be some sort of supplies stockpile. He looked back to console and saw two empty circles. “We need a way to power this!”

“Here!”

Chris pushed Leon aside to shove a joint-plug into the empty holes, and a strip of light above the joint-plug lit up red. When Chris pulled down the red lever down, the strip went green, and the platform began to descend. The ceiling exploded above them, Leon pulling Chris back to avoid any debris. A crane fell, columns collapsed, everything was falling apart—

The Tyrant stomped from the hole that had been blown in the ceiling, different and infinitely more terrifying. 

Its upper half was bare and the gray skin was twisted with veiny red flesh and muscles. Its right arm was a throbbing mass of awful, much like the final stages of Dr. Birkin with the G-Virus. It was bigger than before, impossibly bigger, and Leon just wanted this to be done.

“Oh shit,” Chris whispered beside him. 

“Ammo at the other end,” Leon said, already stepping away from where the Tyrant was advancing. “We— we need to finish this.” As the Tyrant leaped from the ceiling and landed on the platform with a world-end crash, Leon pushed away the memory of cigarettes and focused on Chris and getting the man to his sister. “We need to finish this.”

“We can’t take it down,” Chris told him as he followed Leon back to the ammo stockpile. There was very little that could actually be used in what they had, and there were no weapons for the ammo that existed in excess, but Leon was happier to have the clip for Chris’s gun, and the ten slugs for the shotgun than nothing at all. Behind him, the silent giant’s footsteps were the only thing that told him he was in a fight for his life, until he heard a throaty call that sounded more alien than Birkin. As Leon turned, reloading everything he had, he saw that the Tyrant’s lower jaw was missing, allowing it to make such a terrifying, inhuman sound. “Leon, we’ve tried, how the fuck do we take it down?”

“Can’t take it down— maybe we can blow it apart.” Leon brought the barrel of the shotgun back up, locked and loaded. “I’m getting real fucking tired of you,” he told the Tyrant, bringing up the Samurai Edge to fire a few shots into the Tyrant’s head, searching out a weak point while Chris reloaded as well. When the two shots did nothing, Leon brought his sights down to the chest tattered arm, where flesh was showing and wiggling red beneath the skin. Three shots into that, and— the Tyrant stumbled. “It’s the heart!” he called out to Chris. “Aim for the heart!”

“Surprised this thing even has one,” Chris griped. “Alright, Tin-man! Come get some!”

The Tyrant let out another throaty, garbled roar, before it spread its arms wide and stalked towards them, sparks flying from here its claws scraped at the grating. Chris and Leon stood firm, shoulder to shoulder, firing shots into the quivering heart. The Tyrant swiped with the clawed arm as it got close, and Leon and Chris dropped to the ground in unison, Chris rolling to the left, Leon ducking beneath the legs to get behind the Tyrant and fire two shotgun shells into its back. It went down on a knee and Chris walked right up to the fucker’s face, pushing the Lightning Hawk into the shreds of torn flesh from the Tyrant’s lower jaw to send three slugs into whatever brain this thing had. The flash of the muzzle showcased the grim determination on Chris’s face, and this was probably the last place Leon should be admiring Chris Redfield, but he’d never been very smart about this kind of thing anyways. 

Chris’s hands fisted in Leon’s shirt and yanked him back just as the Tyrant swung its meaty arm, the claws narrowly avoiding Leon’s chest. “We can’t do the distractions, it’s too fast!” Chris shouted into Leon’s ear. “Just fire everything you’ve got!”

Leon could get behind that. The smell of cigarettes was just annoying at this point, and he was tired of feeling cold even when Chris was so close. Leon walked backwards and cocked the shotgun at the step of the right foot, pulled the trigger with the left. The Tyrant turned and tried to lumber towards him, but the oppressive spray of shrapnel tore into that dying heart. Something like blood slugged out with each shell as Leon counted down to his last while being back up against a wall of fallen rubble, but right as he was about to switch out for Matilda again, the Tyrant changed its dance right as it dawned on Leon that he was trapped, broken concrete on all sides and not enough bullets to stop this thing in its tracks.

It planted its feet, threw its head back to scream at the ceiling, and then _charged._

Leon braced himself, brought up every memory he had of pain and how to pretend it wasn’t real, told himself he’d survive this because it’d be pathetic to die after everything he’d already survived, grit his teeth and—

Leon was shoved harshly to the side. His bad shoulder hit the grating and he cried out in pain as the bullet wound tugged, but the cry morphed from pain to horror when he saw Chris being lifted high in the grip of the Tyrant, one of those claws piercing the meat of Chris’s arm. 

Leon saw red, didn’t even fucking hesitate in clambering back to his feet, climbing up the Tyrant’s disgusting, bloody side, and looping one leg around the throbbing shoulder to put the muzzle of the shotgun right to the fuckers head and firing his last shot into the thing’s skull. 

Chris was dropped and Leon was flung away as the Tyrant twisted and howled. The walls surrounding them were falling apart and a large crane shaft collapsed, fire welling from all places. Chris crawled away from where the Tyrant was holding its face in its hands, moaning in agony, and leaving Leon with a sick sense of triumph. Then something thumped against the bone of Leon’s ankle. He looked down to see a weapon casing with—

A god damn anti-tank rocket. 

“Change of plans,” Leon said to himself as he lifted the heavy-duty artillery-decimating weapon of glorious destruction onto his good shoulder. “Out of the way, Chris!” he ordered as he squinted down the sights. Chris scrambled away from the blast radius as the Tyrant finally got back up to its feet, turning to Leon like it wanted to eat him alive, and stumbled towards him. “You want me so badly?” Leon asked as the Tyrant reached out with near desperation. “Come and get me.”

Leon pulled the trigger. The rocket burst from its casing and hit the Tyrant with perfect accuracy. Guts and flesh were flung into the air, slapping against concrete and metal and Leon and Chris, and when the smoke faded, the Tyrant was only the lower half, ruined muscle and organs and a severed spine being the only thing left of the torso. Those terrifying, empty eyes were gone, and Leon could only smell blood and body parts— no cigarettes to be had. He looked beyond the mess to see Chris slumped against the wall, grinning at him.

_”Three minutes to self-destruct.”_

The platform stopped and there was no time to celebrate. Chris ran towards him, taking Leon by the shoulder, his free hand pressed to his sluggish bleeding wound. They bounded off the platform together, heading for a door that opened before they could reach it, zombies shuffling out. Leon laughed, exhausted and worn down, and told Chris, “I was honestly starting to miss these guys!” Then he pushed Chris behind him, aimed the sights of the anti-tank rocket, and fired into the center of the small horde, laughing even louder when they were blown to pieces. “God, I love this thing.”

Chris didn’t answer. He just took Leon by the shirt again and pulled him into the room that turned out to be the rail station, thank fucking god. But as they approached the tracks, they saw lights fast approaching from the right side. “Oh fuck, it’s already moving,” Chris said, his voice strained. “We’re gonna have to jump.”

The train, an ugly yellow thing, gained speed as it passed them. It was Leon’s turn to take Chris by the shirt, dropping the anti-tank rocket to sprint for one of the handrails that was near the front carriage. Chris lagged behind him, the pain of his injury dragging him down, but Leon wasn’t about to give up. He reached out, fingers brushing, he was so close, if he could just—

Leon got a grip on the handrail and threw Chris forward with all of his strength. Chris hit the flooring of the train with a grunt, the metal ledge digging into his stomach, but he had a place for his feet and a way up. Chris crawled onto the train and then immediately turned around to take Leon by the arms, pulling him onto the train with him. Leon collapsed against the railing, his back to Umbrella, looking up at Chris who was unsteady on his feet, a hand on the railing, his arm beside Leon’s ear, arching over Leon like he was the roof above his head. Leon couldn’t help it. He turned his face and pressed a kiss to radial artery in Chris’s wrist, smiling shakily up at him. “We made it.”

Chris stared down at him in a daze that made Leon’s heart race. Then Chris said, “I hear voices.”

Leon shot up as Chris steadied himself, both of them turning to the carriage door that would lead into the train cabin. Leon had three bullets left in the Samurai Edge, and he knew Chris had five in Matilda. Whatever was beyond those doors couldn’t be any worse than what they’d already faced. Leon and Chris looked to each other, let out a slow breath, and nodded in unison. Leon hit the button to open the door and Chris darted inside, gun up, Leon right behind him. 

Claire and a small blonde girl startled back, eyes wide and afraid for only a split second before a huge grin split Claire’s face and she barreled forward into her brother, peals of laughter falling from her lips as she hugged Chris like she would drown if she let go. 

As Leon watched Chris wrap his huge arms around his sister’s body and hide his face in Claire’s neck, Leon realized that he had no idea if Chris’s intentions for Leon to be at his side extended beyond his sister. 

The realization felt like ice water. 

“I’m so glad to see you,” Claire choked out while she squeezed her brother. “Leon said we would all make it, but god— Chris, I’m so happy you’re here.” Chris just held her tighter despite his wound and Leon suddenly felt a little dizzy. 

There was a tug at his arm. The blonde girl looked up at him with wide, blue eyes. “You’re a cop,” she said. “But I’ve never seen you before.”

Well— if Leon couldn’t have Chris, he could still do his job. He went down on one knee for the little girl, smiled at her and nodded. “I’m new,” he said. “Today was my first day on the job.”

“Wow,” the girl said. “Must’ve been a bad day.”

Leon liked her honesty. “I’m Leon S. Kennedy,” he told her, holding out a hand to shake, which she took. Her tiny hand felt fragile in his palm, like he was holding a priceless porcelain heirloom that was his responsibility to keep from shattering. “What’s your name?”

“Sherry,” she said. “Is it over?”

Leon was going to say yes when the entire train car shook and he realized that saying yes would have been a lie. He stood and looked to where Chris and Claire had nearly been thrown to the ground, Chris’s face pale with either pain or blood loss, his arms round his sister’s waist, standing between her and the door protectively. “There’s something out there,” Leon said. He met Chris’s gaze and saw the fear in the man’s eyes. “You stay here,” he ordered, talking to everyone but only looking at Chris. He put his hand at the small of Sherry’s back and pushed her towards Claire. “I’m going to go check it out.”

“Leon—”

“Don’t come after me,” Leon interrupted Chris without remorse. He ran the three bullets he had left to his name over and over again in his head as he approached the door and told himself he could do this, just one last monster and then it’d all be over, one way or another.

“Hey, wait.” 

Leon looked back to see Claire lifting something from against the wall of the train car. Leon squinted at the actual mini gun in her hands and reminded himself to never underestimate a Redfield. Chris had already proven himself to be a fucking beast— why couldn’t his little sister be the same? Claire hefted the mini gun to Leon and grinned at him. “Think I can trust you with this last run for us?”

Leon, despite the ache in his chest as he looked into Claire and saw Chris, smiled and took the weapon. “Take care of your brother for me,” he told her. He turned back around again and wasn’t able to look at Chris as he opened the door and tried to look like he wasn’t afraid as he left the car, crossing over the platforms to the next one. 

The door of this car slid shut behind him and it was too quiet. Leon heaved a long breath, in and out. He remembered the last time he’d split up with Chris. More than anything, Leon wanted the man back at his side, but with that injury…

Leon clenched his teeth and moved forward, refusing to let the silence upset his concentration. The doors of the car opened wide for him at the end and he crossed into the next, seeing nothing at the end. He didn’t know how long this train was or how far he’d have to go before running into something awful, but—

The back of the car was torn away and a mass of teeth and flesh and _gore_ consumed the entire end of the train, the teeth trembling and undulating as _Doctor fucking Birkin_ ate away at more of the car to reach Leon. 

Leon scowled and brought up the mini gun, holding it at his side. “You got a problem with death?!” he shouted, honestly more fed up than scared at this point. “You want more bullets?” he asked the disgusting mass. “Open wide!”

There was nothing that compared to the satisfying tremble in his arms of nearly one hundred 7.62 MM caliber bullets spewing from the gun per second and slamming home into Dr. Birkin’s— whatever the fuck it even was anymore. Leon advanced as Dr. Birkin devoured more of the car, Leon letting out a scream of adrenaline and fury and _everything_ all at once, letting all of the stress and fear and pain burst out of him as he tore this fucking thing apart with this monster of a weapon. The mass writhed and screamed. The car darkened as the lights were eaten and doused, but Leon didn’t let up for a moment. The mini gun was growing hot in his hands and searing his thigh, but he wasn’t going to stop until either Dr. Birkin was dead, or he was. The train car shook and from the mouth burst an eyeball that looked like a cancerous growth. Leon aimed the gun for the telltale weak point and barred his teeth, uncaring when the gun ran dry, knowing this was his death rattle. Leon pulled Chris’s gun from his side, fired one, two, and then the last shot, and—

Dr. Birkin screamed and stopped advancing, the eyeball bursting forward like a protruding limb in its own way. The ceiling of the train car was torn off by the flesh consuming the walls and he was thrown off his feet. He looked up at the teeth and wondered if being eaten alive by this thing would be the same as being eaten by a zombie.

_“Leon!”_

Chris’s shout snapped Leon from the thought. He looked to see Claire and Chris and Sherry all watching him with terrified faces, holding onto walls and railings as the train was nearly thrown off the tracks. 

“We gotta lose that car!” Claire screamed. She and her brother darted forward and started doing something with the machinery beneath the cars, Leon didn’t know what. He was on the floor, the veiny flesh and tentacles trying to wrap around his limbs and devour him along with the rest of the car. Leon tore himself from their grip and grabbed a fallen pipe to bring himself back to his feet. _He was so fucking tired._ What was left of Dr. Birkin shrieked at him, teeth reaching for him hungrily, that eyeball seeing him and nothing else. 

Leon stood, faced down this one last fucking giant, and shouted, “Come on!” as he drove the jagged end of the pipe into the pupil and turned his face away from the sewage that spewed from the wound. The eyeball thrashed and tried to throw him off, but Leon held fast as the car shook and slowed, momentum dying. Chris and Claire had detached the car— good. They would make it even if he didn’t. Leon almost resigned himself to this, to dying in the train with this thing, when familiar, strong hands grabbed him by the back of his shirt and his shoulder and he was torn back into the first car, sprawling across the floor with Chris standing above him. For a hazy moment, Leon felt like he really had died and heaven was just a lot kinder than he’d ever imagined it could be. 

Then there was heat, a massive wave of heat, and Leon looked down his body to see the train car that held Dr. Birkin succumb to the flames of Umbrella’s self-destruct sequence. A burst of fire and one last howl that would ring in Leon’s ears for the rest of his life was the last of Dr. Birkin.

“Oh thank god,” Leon breathed before dropping his head onto the grating, telling himself it was over. He needed a nap, he needed a cup of coffee, he needed to curl up in a corner and just cry it all out, he needed—

Hands back on his shirt, the front this time, and Leon was yanked to his feet for Chris to slam their mouths together, desperation breaking apart Leon’s sense and encompassing him with Chris and only Chris. He clung to the larger man and let himself be swept away by the press of Chris’s tongue and the warmth of his body. Those strong arms went around his torso and Leon let himself believe that it really finally and fucking _done._

“Woah,” came Sherry’s small voice. “Are you boyfriend and boyfriend?”

“Nice work, Chris.”

Chris pulled away at the sound of his sister’s voice and smiled sheepishly while Leon was still a little stunned from the passion of the kiss. “Sorry,” he said. “Got a little carried away there.”

Claire arched a fine brow, her arms crossed over her chest, but a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “Can’t say I imagined any of us getting this kind of lucky in the zombie apocalypse, but I guess that’s what I get for underestimating the Redfield charm, huh? You come into the end of the world and walk out with a—” She glanced to Leon and shrugged. “Boyfriend? Gotta say, I could be jealous.”

“Jealous that I got a boyfriend or jealous that it’s Leon S. Kennedy?” Chris asked, his chest still pressed to Leon’s, and Leon still couldn’t talk because the come down from the adrenaline mixed with Chris’s body against his was a lethal combination to his thinking abilities. 

“Little bit of both,” Claire replied with a snicker. “Let the poor guy go— he deserves a breather.”

Chris tried to pull away and—

“No,” Leon whispered without thinking of the surrounding company or what was polite. He clung to Chris and felt his cheeks heat, embarrassed by how needy he’d sounded. “I mean—”

Chris’s chuckle rumbled through Leon’s chest and those arms held him tighter as lips met his forehead. God, he probably had to look and smell and feel so disgusting, he wondered how Chris could stand it. “I’m not going anywhere, Leon,” Chris told him. “And seriously— we are never, _ever_ splitting up again.”

Leon laughed breathlessly in return and sunk into the embrace, echoing, “Never splitting up again.”

. . .

“And I want a bird, a colorful one, that I can teach to sing with me,” Sherry babbled on and on, the little girl still full of energy from fighting for her life. The rising sun was at their backs, Chris in the lead with Claire beside him, the Redfield’s talking quietly, a hushed conversation that was speckled with smiles and expressions of relief traded between them. Leon was happy to give them their space, even happier to know Chris had succeeded in his mission of finding his little sister. Sherry was holding Leon’s hand and Leon was still working through the realization that this little girl, this precious little thing, was the daughter of Annette and William Birkin. 

Leon knew she was a bright young kid, but he could see the shadows in her eyes, the haunted look he knew all too well. Neglect was abuse in its own way and Leon resolved that they would find a way to give her the healthy and nurturing life she deserved. One hell per lifetime, and Sherry had done her stay. 

“And when you and Chris get married and Claire becomes my mom, then that means I’m your niece!” Sherry rambled on, bringing Leon back. As he listened to this, he realized he’d missed a key part of the conversation. “And then we can all get a house and I’ll have a birdbath outside and I’ll paint my room blue, and you get to catch the bad guys while Chris and Claire help me make a treehouse, and—”

“Stop.”

Chris’s sharp order had Leon halting in his tracks, pushing Sherry behind him. Chris had his arm up and he was staring down the road— to a vehicle coming their way, a car or a van or something. Leon didn’t know exactly, but his gut was telling him this wasn’t something they could ignore. 

“What if it’s everywhere?” Claire asked, her voice shaking as Chris put his hand on Matilda that was strapped to his waist. Leon coaxed Sherry to stand with Claire and then went to Chris’s side, his hand straying to the Samurai Edge as well. He and Chris met eyes and nodded. Whatever was coming was going to hit them first, not the girls. “What if the virus has spread to everyone?”

The car— definitely a van, grungy and knocked about— stalled slowly in front of them, lights on, the front windows tinted an illegal shade to hide whoever was inside. Chris and Leon stood shoulder to shoulder, facing down their next enemy with twin resolve. 

The side door swung open. A small woman, practically a teenager, with reddish hair and huge eyes stumbled out. “Chris!”

Chris let out a burst of something. “Rebecca!” he shouted back, jogging forward to sweep the girl up in his arms. “I thought you were in Maine!”  
From the van came two more people, a stern faced blond and a dark skinned bodybuilder, both of them men. They looked to Chris with familiarity, but their eyes hardened when they saw Leon, Claire, and Sherry. 

“David,” Chris said, still hugging the giggling Rebecca who had bruises on her arms. “David, what’s happening?”

“Caliban Cove was a tentative success,” the blond man said, David whoever. Leon remembered Chris mentioned a David Trapp and a Rebecca Chambers. Was this— could these people be part of Chris’s team? “We heard the news about Raccoon City from Jill, we came as fast as we could. She and a fellow soldier she picked up in the city are meeting us at a rendezvous, but we had to see the destruction for ourselves.” David Trapp’s mouth was a thin line of either disdain or weariness. “We have more work to do, Chris.”

Chris, to his credit, wasn’t phased by the reality so soon after what he’d just gone through. “Of course,” he said. Then he swept his arm back, pointing at individuals and introducing, “That’s Claire, my sister, and then Sherry Birkin, and Leon S. Kennedy.”

David Trapp only looked even more grim. “I’m sorry, Chris, I don’t want to cut your reunion short, but—”

“If Chris is doing something to take down Umbrella, then I want in,” Claire said firmly, moving to stand beside her brother who had finally let Rebecca Chambers go. Rebecca Chambers looked to Claire with wide eyes like she was seeing a superhero in person. “These assholes are playing with lives like it’s Yahtzee. I wanna be part of what brings them justice.”

“I like her spunk,” the huge man who hadn’t spoken so far chimed in. “She really is your sister, ain’t she, Chris?” Chris just grinned like he was proud and—

This was it, wasn’t it?

Leon had a decision in front of him. It didn’t even seem like much of a decision at all, though. What was he choosing between? Laying low and turning a blind eye to evil at work within this world, or staying with the man who had proved he would give his life to save Leon and the same man Leon would give the same for. Didn’t seem much of a choice to him.

“I’m with Chris and Claire on this,” Leon said, not flinching when all eyes snapped to him. “This has to end somewhere. Call me a pessimist, but I feel like Raccoon was only the beginning. I know I’m not much more than a rookie cop, but—”

“He’s way more than a rookie cop,” Chris interrupted. “He’s probably a better shot than you, John. And Barry.”

“Bullshit!” the bodybuilder— John snapped. “He’ll have to prove that before I believe it!”

“I don’t think either of you truly understand what exactly you’re signing yourselves up for,” David Trapp hedged. 

“I have a feeling that I know exactly what I’m doing,” Leon argued. “You need fighters, right? Claire and I— we’ve got a lot of fight left in us.” There was a tug at Leon’s arm. He looked down and saw Sherry had backed away from the strangers and was moving to hide behind him. Leon’s heart ached for her and he took her tiny hand in his own. “I’m with Chris,” he said firmly. “And to be honest? You wouldn’t be able to keep me from him if you tried.”

David— looked resigned. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, Leon finally noticing the smooth, English drawl to his words. “All of you look like a hot shower is in order before anything else. Jill and her friend will be meeting us with Barry at a motel nearby.” He pulled the van door open and nodded for them to clamber inside. Rebecca went in first, pulling Claire with her, and Chris followed them as John went to the driver’s seat. After Leon had lifted Sherry into the vehicle, David Trapp stopped Leon with his arm between Leon and the inside. “Umbrella will meet its end,” David told him. Leon watched the man warily, unsure of anyone at this point, even if it was someone Chris trusted. “They will,” David promised. “But that doesn’t mean any of you have to die for it.”

Leon looked into the interior, met eyes with Chris and saw the way Chris was watching the exchange with fierce protectiveness. Leon’s heart swelled when he understood Chris was looking to protect him. “Something tells me Chris won’t let that happen,” he told David with a wry grin. 

David Trapp didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, but he pulled his arm back all the same and let Leon inside. “Say goodbye to the worst day of your life!” John called out from the front before turning the van around and leaving Raccoon City in the rearview. 

Leon heaved a sigh as he sat on the floor with Sherry crawling to sit beside him, Chris at the other side and kicking a foot out to knock Leon’s boot with his own. They grinned at each other and Chris cocked a tired brow as Rebecca Chambers dropped to her knees beside Chris to start dressing the wound in his shoulder. “On me?” Chris asked, meaning so much more than the two words. Was Leon really about to do this? Was he about to throw away whatever future he’d dreamed of, was he about to resign himself to a life of fighting monsters when he’d already spent his childhood surviving them? 

Of fucking course he would, as long as Chris kept smiling at him like Leon was the only person in the world.

“On you,” Leon replied. Chris’s grin widened and Leon knew he’d never want anything else in life when he had Chris Redfield.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with this, i wrote 100k in a month how do ya like them apples
> 
> after this is gonna come a small one shot to cover the dark side chronicles and then from there it's straight into re4 (which i'm hella pumped for) and oof 
> 
> also **Neo_Mitsu** idk if you're still reading this but your summary in the bookmarks is leagues better than anything i could ever write and i was wondering if you'd allow me to steal it to redo the summary of this fic (or at least tack it on in addition to the existing one like your summary is fire)
> 
> lastly thanks for reading this guys :) i know it kept being extended and i'm sorry about that XD;; i just hope the ending doesn't disappoint! keep in mind, since it's gonna become a series, overarching plot is necessary ;u; it'll be okay in the end i promise scouts honor :v:

Standing beneath the spray of a low-water-pressure but high-heat shower was like shedding his skin. Leon turned his face up into the weak water and just breathed, not caring how much water he wasted, figuring he had it within his right to use all the hot water in this place. He had about three inches of guts to get off his skin and a slowly rising headache that came from either an adrenaline crash or dehydration, he wasn’t sure which. The echo of the water hitting the tile beneath his feet bounced around in the small bathroom that had two lights, but only one working, the second flickering every so often. Leon had his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see the spastic shift in lighting and get shoved right back into hell. No, Leon was going to deny that trauma for as long as he could. Disassociating was no longer an option, but Rebecca Chambers was a bit of a doctor, meaning she probably had access to resources Leon didn’t. He was sure he could dig up some better alternative coping mechanism so he wouldn’t be a burden to anyone else.

Leon scrubbed at his skin with his second bar of cheap motel soap and finally felt like he was something close to normal again. He put the soap aside and ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair, eyes still shut, still enjoying the hot water. All the aches and pains and bruises were still there, still throbbing beneath his skin, but he didn’t care. He knew that if he actually looked down his torso he’d see the claw marks and the cuts and blood beneath his skin that it would probably make him a little dizzy with the reminder of the pain he’d been denying. His bullet wound in his shoulder was getting the real cleaning it deserved and he had the bandages Rebecca Chambers had given him to wrap it sitting on the counter, but for now he just wanted to enjoy a very simple something. Just a good, hot shower. 

If only Chris were here to enjoy it with him.

The thought had Leon’s cheeks flaring and his stomach twisted, something almost uncomfortable tearing away the soothing warmth of the spray. Even for that, though, his cock gave a twitch of interest, the image of that man— strong and formidable and oh-so attractive— pressed against him beneath the downpour, miles of glistening wet skin, was more than a little enticing. 

_”Time and place, Kennedy.”_

Right now was neither the time nor the place. Leon knew that they were awaiting the arrival of Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira and that he had to be ready at a moment’s notice, meaning he definitely didn’t have time to rub one out like he was fifteen and struggling with his hormones again, terrified of being heard. Even though Leon didn’t really have to hide from his parents, the walls were thin at this cheap motel and he had no idea who was in the room next to him. Leon knew he wasn’t exactly quiet when it came to his personal time. It wasn’t likely that he’d be able to keep it down. 

It wasn’t like he could go and find Chris, either. After John had finished the three hour drive to this motel and David Trapp had told them all to get some rest, Chris had absconded to his sister’s room that Claire was apparently sharing with Rebecca. They’d taken Sherry too, leaving Leon by himself. He didn’t mind it, not really, he told himself he could use some quiet after all of the noise of the previous night, the heightened senses and tiptoeing fear of being heard. David had handed Leon a nondescript pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was likely David’s own clothes and then directed Leon to a motel room that was decided to be “Leon’s,” a small thing with two queen beds and blackout curtains. Leon had promptly passed out on the bed nearest to the door and slept a solid four hours before crawling his sorry ass into the shower, where he was now thinking about Chris, making him still a sorry ass. 

Leon grimaced and grabbed the shampoo that was nearly empty, putting the last bit in his hands and cleaning his hair for the third time. His fingers were pruning and his arms ached from all of the scrubbing. The pleasant feeling of being clean was fading away in the face of the loneliness he’d been trying to keep at bay. Because to tell the truth, Leon didn’t want to be alone and in the quiet after the night he’d experienced. He was envious of Claire who was right now surrounded by people who she liked and cared about her. He distantly wished he’d grown up with a sibling that would fight through hell to save him, but that was a sick thing to want because he’d only be forcing another human being into the awful childhood he’d survived. And that— that really wasn’t okay. 

Still. Was it so wrong to dream about someone seeing him as worthy enough to fight through the apocalypse for? That could be Chris, but how could Leon actually know? It wasn’t like he was going to ask, and it wasn’t like Leon even thought Chris would say yes. Chris had barely known him for twelve hours, he had no real idea of who Leon was and if he was worth keeping around. Chris had said something about Leon’s memories coming back after they’d made it out and then Leon could make a decision about whatever, but shouldn’t Chris be given the same? Now that they were out and had some breathing space, what if—

What if Chris decided Leon was too much?

Like Heather had. Heather had broken up with him so easily. He could remember her face now, too, as she’d said: “it’s over,” curly brown hair framing pale skin, her pink glossy lips a downturned line with bags under her eyes, barely covered by the foundation she wore. Leon knew he’d put her through hell with his fucked sleep cycle and obsession with his work in the police academy and helping people. Sometimes Leon was worried he’d spent so much time helping others that he forgot to help her, even if she never asked for it and never showed that she needed it. Leon couldn’t read minds, but so what? She had been his partner, he should have been more attentive. 

Leon grimaced to himself and tugged at his hair. It wouldn’t help to torture himself with the what-ifs. Leon liked Chris, he _really liked him,_ and he had a feeling that whatever Chris felt for him was more than surface level. It was wrong of him to assume Chris’s feelings just because Chris wasn’t here right now. Of course Chris would be with Claire, of course he would want to stick to his sister’s side and reassure himself that she was safe and it had been a job well done. If anything, Chris leaving Leon alone for a while just showed Chris’s faith in Leon’s fortitude and abilities. 

Yeah, Leon could work with that.

He kept his chin up and told himself that doubting Chris was insulting and making an assumption that wasn’t his right to make. If Chris decided he didn’t want anything to do with Leon after this, then he would tell Leon himself, but Leon had no right to say it for him. And after everything they’d been through _together_ , Leon was stupid to think he could be tossed aside so easily. He’d proven himself time and time again. Leon knew he was useful and he knew how he looked. Second guessing someone else’s feelings would only torture himself for no reason.

Leon forced himself to latch onto that thought and rinsed the shampoo from his hair. Everything would be okay. Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira would show up and then they’d get some sort of plan formulated and Leon would just— go from there. He’d stick by Chris if Chris wanted, and if Chris didn’t want him, then Leon would find a way to continue the fight on his own. From what he’d gathered, Chris’s group of rebels was small and they’d be stupid to turn down a willing fighter with arms training. He’d be given something to do, one way or the other, and that was— that was it. He didn’t have a life to go back, after all. All Leon could do was roll with the punches. 

He could handle that. Leon was good at taking a hit. 

He shut off the water and finally left the shower, feeling leagues better than he had in ages as he stepped onto the thin bathroom rug and curled his toes into the fabric, breathing deep and easy. Leon glanced to catch his reflection in the mirror and—

Well, look at that , the bruising wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. Just some smattering along his left side and dark blood beneath the skin of his arms. His thighs were pretty rough from where he’d been thrown around so much, and his neck was bruising as well from the Tyrant’s grip, but he didn’t look any worse than a normal day as a kid. Nothing was broken, only one bullet wound. Leon almost felt like he’d come out of the zombie apocalypse pretty well off. 

He picked up the dressings and quickly wrapped his shoulder after sterilizing the wound. In and out, that was the most he could have asked for when taking the bullet for Ada. Even now, he wondered why he’d done that. It wasn’t like the woman had been particularly kind to him or Chris and she was one of the villains in the end, but— well, she was a person, wasn’t she? Leon didn’t wish death on anyone no matter how much he thought they deserved it. 

He finished dressing the wound and then dried off the rest of his body, coming up with a tentative plan of his own. After this, he would sleep for three more hours on the clean bed by the window, rounding himself off at a healthy seven hours of rest. It nothing new came of the others, then he’d hop over to the gas station that he knew was next door and pick up something for everyone to eat, donuts and smoothies and coffee or whatever he could find. He wanted to make a better first impression than just the thousand yard stare he’d worn for most of the van ride here, the emptiness that Chris had been forced to pull him out of with a gentle shake of his shoulder. Leon hoped that bringing everyone food would make him seem less like a basket case. 

Leon tossed the used towel onto the counter and grabbed a fresh one to wrap around his waist, feeling oddly optimistic despite the circumstances. Pretty much everything was up in the air, but at least he had his feet under him and his head on his shoulders. At least he wasn’t _fucking dead._

Leon grinned at his reflection in the mirror, honestly proud that he’d come out of that alive. Everything after that— well, it couldn’t get any worse, right?

Leon opened the door from the bathroom and strode into the motel room, expecting no one, and then literally stumbling over his own feet and nearly dropping the towel when he saw Chris standing at the foot of the first bed. 

“Oh shit,” Chris said rather dumbly as his eyes went wide and raked over Leon’s nearly-naked body. The only reason Chris wasn’t getting another eyeful of Leon’s cock right now was because he’d recovered quickly enough to keep the towel from falling all of the way down his waist. Why were towels at motels so small? Leon wasn’t Chris’s size, but he wasn’t fucking tiny, he needed something larger than a pillowcase, thank you very much. Leon’s face was red and he could feel the blush extending beyond his face, reaching down his neck and chest. Chris’s eyes on him felt like fire and Chris wasn’t looking away. If anything, the dumbstruck awe on Chris’s face told Leon that Chris, for some reason, _couldn’t_ look away. He must be exhausted.

Leon cleared his throat and shifted from one foot to the other with a sheepish expression. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

That finally broke Chris out of his stupor. He cut his eyes away, blushing just as furiously as Leon. “I should have knocked, jesus,” Chris told him, staring resolutely at the wall that had a gaudy painting of some bizarre, abstract elephant hanging from the peeling paint. “I didn’t— I mean, I should have thought— uhm.”

Despite the awkwardness, Leon found himself smiling. Chris was cute when he was flustered. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

“Why?”

Chris’s immediate response had them both stuttering over their next words, that electric attraction that Leon had tried valiantly to ignore only to succumb to in the end brimming between them. Leon really had been stupid to think Chris would change his mind now that everything was said and done. If anything, now that they were out of Raccoon City? Whatever was happening between him and Chris had only just begun.

Boyish excitement welled up in Leon’s chest and the smile became a grin as Chris fumbled to recover, saying, “What I meant was that— I mean, look, there’s nothing wrong with—” In the end, Chris gave up, and his hands fell useless at his sides while he still was staring at the painting. “It’s not— bad.”

“Oh, good,” Leon replied a little cheekily. “I was starting to think it was torture to have me half naked for your viewing pleasure.”

Chris was probably gonna have an aneurism if Leon didn’t stop teasing him. Leon went to the folded clothes that he’d left on the clean bed and Chris crossed his arms over his chest like he had something to hide. “I was with my sister and Sherry and Rebecca,” he told Leon even though Leon hadn’t asked and had seen them go off together in the first place. “We caught up and stuff, I took a shower, and, uh, I guess, so did you?”

“No, I just get soaked because I’m secretly a mermaid needing to rehydrate,” Leon replied as he unfolded the clothes and raised a brow at the decal of a stripper’s silhouette on the front of the shirt. Was this really David’s? He didn’t seem like the type, but what did Leon know? “How’re the girls doing?”

“Good, good,” Chris replied stiffly. “Claire is talking about following me around, so I guess I can’t convince her to finish her degree. She’s always been like that, really, she sees bad stuff happening to innocent people and so she does her best to stop the villains even if it’s not the safest thing. A lot like you, actually.” When Leon glanced back, he saw Chris scratching his nose like he was embarrassed to admit Leon and his sister had something in common. “Rebecca is talking about going into bio-research and vaccinations. She said that she thinks she can get some good work done if she just has the resources and that David mentioned he knew a few people he could put her in contact with. Sherry…”

Leon stalled in pulling the sweatpants up from underneath the towel. When Chris failed to finish the sentence, Leon pulled the waistband up and let the towel fall away, no longer needing to be descent when wearing pants, at least. “Is she okay?” Leon asked gently. 

“I’m worried what she survived tonight is too much,” Chris admitted after a second. He still wasn’t looking at Leon. That painting must be really interesting to him. “So are Claire and Rebecca and basically everyone. They’ve all seen this shit to some extent and they know she went through the worst of it. Apparently— Chief Irons kept her captive. She says he didn’t hurt her, but who fucking knows. We’re worried.”

Leon grimaced, but— “Kids can survive a lot,” he told Chris quietly. “Trust me.”

Chris’s gaze snapped to him. God, Leon wished he could erase the pain in the man’s eyes. “I guess you would know,” Chris murmured, his voice barely audible and aching. “God, Leon— how are you still standing?”

Leon frowned, not having expected the question. “What else can I do?” he asked honestly. “It’s not like I can give up, and I couldn’t give up back then, either. My only option was to keep going. Once I realized that, well. It was pretty easy to manage.” He shrugged and held the t-shirt in his hands, running the fabric between his fingers, a little uncomfortable to be talking about this since he’d never done it before. “I don’t really know,” he confessed. “I’ve never actually— you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”

_“What?”_

The sharpness of Chris’s voice had Leon wincing, and he peaked up at the man through his wet bangs. Chris looked genuinely horrified. “I didn’t report it,” he said. “Didn’t go to anyone, didn’t say a word. I know people suspected, but it wasn’t like I would confess to anything directly. I’ve never told anyone. Not— not until you.”

“Why?” Chris asked, taking a step forward and then falling back, second guessing himself. “Why didn’t you get help?”

“My parents are my only living relatives,” Leon sighed. “And there was no way I was going into foster care.”

“So you just, what? Grit your teeth and bore it?”

“I mean…” Leon shrugged again, feeling a little stupid. “Yeah.”

Silence pervaded the small motel room and Leon hated it. “I like to think I turned out pretty okay despite it all,” he defended weakly. Surely Chris didn’t think Leon was damaged or anything, right? His parents had put him through the wringer, but the system in New York City? That would have been much worse. “I know I’m not perfect, but I’m not a fucking disaster either.”

“Jesus, Leon, perfect is the only word that comes to mind when I see you.”

Leon looked up again and scrunched his nose. “You must be joking.”

Chris took a step forward again, then another, no longer afraid to be close to Leon, and thank god for that. Leon folded his arms in front of his torso, not afraid Chris, but still feeling bare in the cold motel without a shirt. He could always put the t-shirt on, but— for some reason, he didn’t want the added barrier between him and Chris.

“Leon,” Chris said, reaching out slowly with his hand, letting Leon track the movement. “Can I touch you?”

Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You don’t need to ask anymore.” Chris, to his credit, still didn’t put his hand on Leon until Leon gave him a tight nod. The palm was warm on his bare shoulder and threw Leon back to the main shaft, where Chris had touched him and orchestrated Leon’s pleasure like a master violinist. Leon leaned into the touch and met Chris’s eyes with a solid gaze of his own.

“To know you went through all of that,” Chris began carefully. “Only to come out as good of a man as you are? Yeah, everyone has flaws, and maybe you think yours are bigger than others, but the bravery and morals you have, coupled with the desire to just help people and only that? God, Leon, I can’t think of a better word to describe you than perfect.”

“Building me up to be something I’m not will only disappoint you.” Chris frowned and Leon winced. “Sorry, that was a little harsh.”

“Who said that to you?” Chris demanded. “Because those weren’t your words.”

And Chris thought Leon was the smart one. “It’s just something I tend to hear a lot,” he replied. “And it’s true. I’m not perfect. The longer you tell yourself I am, the more upset you’ll be when you finally figure it out. I’m— really not perfect, Chris. There’s a lot going on up here.” He tapped at his temple, smiling shakily. “A lot of it isn’t good.”

“You think I don’t know what it means to be broken?” 

Leon hadn’t meant that— Chris had told him his parents had died, and while Leon found himself envious, he knew it was wrong. Chris’s parents had probably been amazing. The world was worse off to have lost them. 

“My definition of perfect doesn’t fit what everyone else thinks,” Chris said, squeezing Leon’s shoulder. “To me, perfect is facing down countless monsters and never losing yourself or your beliefs. Perfect is to be knocked down and come back up swinging in the name of others and not yourself. Perfect is knowing you’re flawed and taking it in stride, using the flaws to fuel the desire to make the world better so others won’t have the same flaws you do. Perfect is the courage to stare evil in the eye and tell it to quit its shit before you make them. Perfect— is you, Leon S. Kennedy. And you’ll never be able to change my mind.”

Leon shuddered out a breath. “Jesus, Chris,” he said. “I wish I had known you as a kid.”

Chris’s expression twisted with heartache and Leon regretted telling him that. “If I had known you, I would have done everything I could to take you away from that place,” he told Leon. “Screw using it to become a better person— no child should survive what you went through, and I don’t even know the extent of it. All I know is…” 

His eyes trailed down to Leon’s hips, and only then did Leon remember. The cigarette burns his father had pressed into his skin, just below the puncture wounds of when his mother had pushed him down the fire escape. Chris had seen them long ago, likely when Leon has been shot, and— and he still wanted Leon. He’d seen some of the ugliest parts and had still kissed him, still ran his hands over Leon’s body like he couldn’t get enough of him. God, did Leon even deserve a man like Chris Redfield?

“They look worse than they felt,” he told Chris, wanting to reassure him and take the pain away. “Honestly, getting them just felt numb for the most part. If you clean it fast enough, it heals in a week or so.”

His tactic wasn’t working. Chris looked _ill._ “It’s really not that bad,” Leon insisted, trying to fix this. “The ribs hurt way worse. You can’t set a broken rib, you know, I had to go to my neighbor to push them back in. He was an old army medic, he took care of it quickly, said he was impressed by how I wasn’t crying.” God, Leon, shut up, Chris looked ready to vomit, why couldn’t he shut up? It was like now that he had someone who knew, Leon couldn’t stop himself from spilling every gory detail. 

“And even then, the worst part were the concussions.” Leon couldn’t stop himself from talking if he tried. “I would get nosebleeds so much from the head trauma, people would make fun of me and say I was starting my period every time I got one in the middle of class. Then one time the blood came from my ears and I couldn’t remember a whole week prior. I almost got CPS called on me for that one, but I ended up running away from the officers that got called to the school and they gave up. Although, really, I think the worst one was when my mother—”

_“Leon, stop.”_

Chris’s order had Leon’s teeth clacking shut in the effort to stop talking and he tasted blood. He’d bitten his tongue, good going, Kennedy. Leon shook his head, hiding behind his hair again, but the hand on his shoulder didn’t let him retreat completely. Chris was squeezing the muscle so tight that he could feel the individual nails digging into his skin. He heard something shudder out of Chris and prayed he hadn’t made the man cry. 

Then there was a finger hooking beneath his chin. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” Leon nodded his consent and didn’t fight the lift of the finger, relief blossoming in his chest when Chris pressed their lips together. He felt really pathetic in hindsight to think Chris Redfield was the kind of person to use them and lose them. What he and Chris had shared back in the Umbrella facility hadn’t been from adrenaline or survival instincts— there was _something_ between them and both of them would be damned before they let it slip through their fingers. 

Chris kept the kiss chaste but wet, their lips parting audible, the sounds louder than gunshots in the quiet room. Leon distantly became aware of the patter of rain on the window behind them and wondered if it was going to become a storm. 

“I’m sorry,” Chris whispered into Leon, clinging to him. “I just— can’t stand the way you talk about it. Like it— Like it’s just so fucking _normal._ ”

“I’m so jealous your parents are dead,” Leon confessed. “And I’m sorry for it.”

“Don’t be— I wish your parents were dead too.” Chris pulled away from Leon, but only barely. Leon could still feel Chris’s breath on his lips. “Where are they, Leon?”

“You’re not hunting down my parents, fucking christ.”

“They deserve prison, Leon, at the very least.” Chris’s grip on Leon’s shoulder became bruising again, a testament to how passionately Chris seemed to believe this. Leon had honestly given up on his parents receiving their bad karma in full long ago. He’d been more focused on getting out than getting revenge. “I know I’m not the same as you,” Chris said. “What I went through and then what I did before this. I know S.T.A.R.S. isn’t the same as a regular police force, but you can’t really expect me to let something like this go, right? Even though we don’t have any evidence of it happening beyond your testimony, I want them to pay for what they did.”

Leon pursed his lips, trying to figure out the angle. “To… get in my pants?”

Chris sputtered, going red again, but distantly angry as well. “What the fuck, Leon, I don’t want to bring your shitty parents to justice just to get laid!” Leon winced, realizing he’d been an asshole for even considering it. “I want them to pay for what they did because no child should ever have to live through what you did. I want them to make an example of them so no one will ever consider hurting their child again.”

Leon almost laughed. “You can’t possibly think you can end child abuse by going vigilante on my parents, do you?”

“No,” Chris denied. “But I can try anyways.”

That—

Leon’s chest was full of something that was making it difficult to breathe even as he began to smile. “Should get you one of those sticker police badges,” Leon told him teasingly. “Make you an honorary Raccoon City Police Officer.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Chris huffed even as that anger died as Leon had hoped it would. Chris seemed to curl around Leon, pressing their foreheads together, his hands resting comfortably on Leon’s bare waist, one of Chris’s thumbs reaching low and running over the cigarette scars. Leon shuddered and shut his eyes, finding more peace in this embrace than he had in that stellar shower. “It just doesn’t seem fair,” Chris murmured. “None of this does.”

“It does seem pretty shit,” Leon admitted with a gentle sigh. “All of those people— all of them gone because some company decided to play with fire. What did they think was going to happen? And everyone had to suffer for it. And you? God, Chris, going through that twice?” Leon shook his head, putting his arms around Chris’s hips. “That seemed to be the most unfair to me. You shouldn’t have to face that twice. And now you’re just— seeking out more of it.” Leon smiled brokenly. “You have so much courage. I’m so proud to know someone like you.”

Chris stared at him like he was seeing something he didn’t understand. Then his fingers were fisting in Leon’s hair, yanking him forward, slamming their mouths together with such ferocity that Leon shuddered. He arched into Chris, finding a familiar yearning low in his gut as Chris pulled and angled Leon’s head back so he could press his tongue inside Leon and making his toes curl. Those hands slid down from Leon’s hair, fingertips dragging across the expanse of Leon’s chest, the calloused pad of his thumb catching on Leon’s nipple and making him gasp softly. 

“You have no fucking idea,” Chris growled into him. “How fucking hard it is to not lock that door and keep you in this room for days.”

“Is that a sex thing or a death thing?” Leon asked, a little breathless as he tried to meet the passion of Chris’s kiss with some of his own. His body coiled tight with anticipation, remembering every detail of their moment in the Umbrella facility, Leon bent forward with his hips arched back into the air, Chris’s huge, hot cock thrusting in and out of his thighs. It hadn’t been enough for either of them, but Leon hadn’t thought Chris would drag himself away from their work so soon to take what they both wanted. 

“Both,” Chris said. “Lock you away so those fuckers can never touch you again. Lock you away so I don’t ever have to stop touching you.”

“Haven’t I shown you I can take care of myself?”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna cut apart every fucker that comes for you anyways.”

“I think I’m fine with just you cumming for me, thanks.”

Chris visibly stuttered over his own tongue and Leon giggled, feeling almost like a kid again, though a very different kid than he ever got to be. He leaned in to kiss the corner of Chris’s mouth, an apology for catching him off guard. “Too much?” he asked. “God, Kennedy,” Chris said. “I’ll never get enough of you.” Their lips met again and Leon lost himself in Chris, a lazy dance of their tongues numbing his mind into a warm static that filled his limbs. Chris’s hands roamed his body, fingers pressing carefully into muscles that were clear of bruises, massaging Leon’s sore limbs more than feeling him up. It had Leon’s throat hitching, blown away by how Chris was always looking out for him, someone he’d barely known a day and yet trusted with his life more than anyone he’d ever known. Leon wasn’t sure if he’d ever find someone who cared about him like Chris did, but he wasn’t about to lose the chance he had now. 

Leon forced himself through the pleasant fog of his thoughts and wrapped a hand around the back of Chris’s neck to pull away just far enough that he could looked up at the other man with what he hoped was an inviting expression and asked, “You think you’d be willing to pick up where we left off?” When Chris’s brow furrowed adorably, Leon bit his lower lip, feeling inexplicably shy, even when Chris’s eyes zeroed in on the swollen, slick state of Leon’s mouth. “I just— down there. In Umbrella. I know we both wanted… more.”

He pinpointed the moment Chris understood, those brown eyes darkening with animal intent, jaw slackening and chest rising against Leon’s with a slow, measured intake of breath. Practicing control, containing instinct, checking himself before he did something that could hurt either of them. 

That was one of the reasons why Leon lo— liked Chris Redfield so much. He was always aware of the people surrounding him and always striving to make sure they were safe and comfortable. How Chris would always ask Leon if it was okay to touch him, even if it frustrated Leon at times. Chris was always looking out for everyone but himself, which was why Leon had been so serious about watching Chris’s back. The kind of leadership and self-control that was shown in every move Chris made astounded Leon. But right now, that control was right back to frustrating for him. He didn’t want Chris worrying about what could happen if he moved too fast or squeezed too hard. Leon just wanted Chris.

“Stop underestimating me,” Leon said. “Remember what happened to the last guy that did?”

“Birkin or the Tyrant?” 

Leon smirked. “Good answer.” He framed Chris’s face with his palms, leaning in close enough to grace their lips, a tentative brush, close enough to feel Chris’s breath hitch. “I know you’re strong,” he whispered, letting Chris taste his words and feeling the man’s grip on his body tighten and then release like he was struggling to keep his grip on himself. “I know you can do anything, Chris. I know you can take down any giant. But trust me when I say I know I can take you.” He moved in even closer, bringing his mouth to Chris’s ear, pressing their bodies together from head to toe. “This is me giving you permission to touch as much as you want— as much as we both want.” He brought a hand from Chris’s face to hook an arm around the man’s waist, holding him in place as he rolled his hips forward and let Chris _feel_ just how much Leon wanted him to touch. “Please?” he murmured. “Don’t make me beg.”

A bruising grip on his waist flung him onto the bed, and Leon laughed brightly from beneath Chris as his back hit the mattress, overjoyed to get to have this. “Surprised you gave in so easy,” he needled, sliding up the mattress to the headboard so Chris would have room to join him. The man was in military BDU cargo pants and a tight t-shirt that hugged him in all the right places and Leon honestly couldn’t wait to get his hands on Chris with fewer layers between them. Chris was glaring down at Leon, but his eyes were sparkling and Leon could see the smile trying to make itself know. “Would’ve thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

“What can I say?” Chris asked as he crawled onto the mattress and took Leon by the ankle to yank him back down, laying him out beneath Chris. “You make me weak, Leon S. Kennedy.” He tugged at the hem of the sweatpants. “No idea why you got dressed when I was just gonna get you out of it seconds later.”

“Gotta make you work for it, don’t I?” Leon asked as he went up on his elbows to keep kissing Chris, addicted to the taste. “Don’t wanna make you think I’m easy or something.”

Chris hesitated above him, even as his arms went down to brace himself atop the bed on either side fo Leon’s shoulders. He felt Chris stall in the kiss and leaned down a little, letting his back hit the covers, giving Chris some kind of space without realizing that being sprawled out on the bed, shirtless with messy hair and swollen lips, likely wasn’t going to help Chris think. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you done something like this before?” 

“Uh.” Leon wasn’t sure what he meant. “Did what we did in the facility not count?”

Chris frowned and cupped Leon’s face with a large palm, his thumb catching on Leon’s lower lip. “No,” he denied. “Before that. Anyone.”

“In general?”

“A man.”

Leon hummed softly and took Chris’s thumb in his mouth, kissing the pad and flattening his tongue against the digit, distantly wondering if Chris would let Leon get Chris’s cock in his mouth. “Once,” he said. “It was only once that I went all the way. I fumbled around with another boy back in high school, but my real first time was in the academy.” He winced and tried to find a way to tell the story without sounding— loose. “I was drunk and so was he, but neither of us were drunk enough to not know what was happening. It wasn’t— the best night of my life, but we had both agreed that we didn’t want our firsts times to be, like, unpleasant. Agreeing on that and agreeing that being with someone we knew we could tentatively trust and was on the same page just seemed— efficient.” Leon had lost his virginity to a man he only barely knew for the sake of security and it was something he would have been ashamed of if Chris didn’t know about Leon’s life. “It wasn’t great,” Leon restated. “But— I’m glad it wasn’t terrible. If you know what I mean.” He looked up at Chris and saw the frown hadn’t left the man's face. “What about you?”

Chris’s expression was pinched. “I— never.”

Leon paused. “You’ve… never had terrible sex or you’ve never done this?”

“I’ve never done this,” Chris bit out, his words clipped and vulnerable. “With a man. I’ve never— done this. Not this far. Not as far as— I want to go with you.”

Leon hoped the shock wasn’t showing on his face. “Could have fooled me,” he finally got out, reaching up to interlock his fingers together behind Chris’s head, caging him in and smiling up at him. “If you’re willing, I can show you the ropes?” Chris gave a jerky nod and Leon smiled wider before cheekily asking, “On me?”

Chris’s face exploded red and Leon laughed at how cute he was, pulling himself up so they could go back to what Leon loved most— kissing. It was pretty sad for him to enjoy it so much, but Chris just made him feel all sorts of stupid. He moaned softly as he hooked a leg around Chris’s waist to bring their hips together again, feeling the man shudder as their hard cocks brushed through too many layers. “How far do you wanna go?” he asked. “We don’t have to—”

“Leon, I really wanna fuck you.”

Leon giggled against Chris’s lips, reminding himself that Chris was only twenty-five. If the world were fair, the man would be barely into his career and working on a future. “I want that too,” he promised. “I just— there are some things we need for that.”

Chris yanked himself away, but before Leon could be disappointed, Chris was reaching into the back pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out what looked like a condom and a travel size packet of lube, the word “moist” glaring them both down in bright pink against black. Leon’s brow shot sky high. 

“Claire gave it to me,” Chris admitted, not meeting Leon’s eyes. “Which is basically all different types of humiliating, but I guess I should be glad she did.”

“Your sister is pretty great,” Leon said, sitting up and scooching back down the bed again so his spine was against the cold, fake wood of the headboard, pushing the pillows away, giving himself room to work. He started to tug down the sweatpants, figuring Chris would be revving to go, but stopped when Chris made a noise and rested a hand on Leon’s knee. Leon looked up expectantly. 

“Can I—” Chris cleared his throat, staring at his hand. “May I undress you?”

God, Leon didn’t deserve this man. “You don’t have to ask,” he reminded Chris softly before taking the hand and bringing it up, letting it settle on Leon’s hip, just above the waistband. “I’m all yours, Chris.”

Chris dove in without warning, attaching himself to Leon’s bare neck and sliding his hands beneath the soft fabric of the sweatpants in unison, digging his fingernails into the flesh of Leon’s thighs. Leon moaned and dropped his head back, giving Chris more to work with, threading his fingers in Chris’s damp, spiky hair. “This part’s easy enough, right?” he asked, getting a little breathless with the sharp thrills of pleasure that shot down to his groin with every nip of Chris’s teeth against his pulse. “All you gotta—”

Leon’s words caught in his throat as Chris took Leon’s cock in his hand with no hesitation, his tight grip sending him back to their hurried coupling in the facility, the desperation that had been making Leon’s heart race. The memory had Leon’s cock throbbing, and he bucked helplessly into Chris’s hand, eyes going wide as Chris started to jerk him off at a brutal pace, already bringing Leon dangerously close to the edge. He whimpered and dropped back against the headboard, planting his feet to fuck into the circle of Chris’s fingers, thoughts white hot and _gone_ , unable to concentrate with how easily and quickly Chris was taking him apart. Chris didn’t pull his lips from Leon’s neck, teeth scraping his jugular. Chris’s wrist twisted, thumb swiped over the head, dragged across the vein, and Leon came with a loud cry, almost a sob, his body trembling and struggling to understand the onslaught and rise and fall of whatever had just happened. 

He lost himself for a moment, dazed in the aftermath, distantly aware of skin and cloth and movement, but nothing specific. When Leon was finally able to open his eyes again, he found himself stretched out on the bed with the sweatpants gone, knees up and pressed together with his spent cock laying against his lower belly, streaks of cum up his chest. He probably looked like a fucking disaster, chest heaving for breath and a vacant look on his face, but Chris seemed to think otherwise, if how he was hurriedly undressing like he would die if he didn’t get naked right that second was anything to go by. Leon laughed shakily as he watched Chris fumble out of his pants and then struggle to get the tight shirt from over his head, hard cock bobbing between toned thighs that had Leon’s mouth watering. 

“Calm down,” Leon soothed, sitting up with effort and reaching out with a hand that still shook. “I’m not going anywhere.” Chris didn’t say a word as he crawled back onto the bed and took Leon’s hand in his own, pressing kisses to the palm and then further, following the vein in Leon’s wrist all the way to his shoulder as he pushed Leon back onto the mattress so his lips could move lower. Leon’s cock twitched with interest as Chris dotted kisses down Leon’s pecs and then the tight muscles of his stomach, lips smearing the cum that was clinging to his skin. Then lower still, until his mouth was at Leon’s slowly-hardening cock, taking Leon into his mouth without hesitation. Leon moaned loudly and had to shut his eyes as Chris settled between his thighs and sucked gently at the head, cleaning Leon’s seed from his body. “For someone who’s never— _oh fuck_!” It was hard to talk when Chris was so adamant on making Leon cum again. “For someone who, who’s never done this before… God, you sure do know how to drive a man crazy.”

Chris pulled off long enough to wink at Leon and remind him, “I said I wanted these thighs at my ears, didn’t I?” before sinking back down on Leon’s sensitive cock and torturing him with slow, measured drags of his tongue. 

“Holy shit,” Leon wheezed, trying to keep his hips on the bed as Chris brought him back to full hardness, his body ready to go within record timing. Chris groaned around the shaft before pulling off, a trail of spit and precum connecting Chris to Leon’s erection, a trail Chris swallowed down as he leaned in to kiss the tip with those full, tempting lips before moving away completely and sitting up, his own erection red and almost painful to look at next to Leon’s, between his legs. 

“What do I do?” Chris asked, resting his hands on Leon’s thighs to flex and relax. “I just…”

Leon could understand the man’s hesitation. Even though he didn’t have that much experience on Chris, he knew enough about male anatomy to look at Chris’s dick and know that he was definitely more than average. But Leon wasn’t a coward and he didn’t even feel a little guilty at the idea of being stretched so wide by Chris’s cock that he felt it for days after. Still— Chris probably didn’t want to hurt him at all. “Get the lube,” he told the other man, watching Chris’s eyes light up at being given direction. As Chris scrambled back down for his pants and the necessary items that were on the floor, Leon propped up a few pillows behind his back and brought his knees up, bracing himself with his legs nearly to his chest, toes digging into the mattress. Chris stalled when he saw Leon like this and it felt good to have the man’s eyes on him without a hint of the anxiety they’d both been living with last they did something like that. Leon took the lube and popped the cap, grimacing at the cold glide of the gel on his fingers. “I’m just gonna show you, okay?” 

Chris nodded sharply and Leon grinned a little, feeling a sort of excitement. “Hope you’re a good study,” he teased as he spread the lube between his fore, middle, and ring fingers. Leon then reached down, finding the furl of muscle on instinct and watching Chris’s gaze flash as Leon spread the slick. Chris settled between Leon’s spread legs and braced himself with a hand on Leon’s knees. The intensity of Chris’s focus felt like electricity. “There will be a test.”

Leon watched Chris’s face closely as he pushed two fingers inside, finding more pleasure in the way Chris visibly held his breath than in the push and stretch. Leon knew he should go slower, it had been a couple months since he’d done this, but Chris’s heavy cock was so close to him that Leon could feel the heat and wanted that inside of him more than anything. He fucked himself quickly, biting down on his lip to keep from being too loud, spreading the lube inside of himself liberally, anticipating what was to come. A low growl came from Chris, so animal and unexpected that Leon wondered if it was even on purpose. Leon couldn’t keep back a whimper as he spread the two fingers, making his body adjust as quickly as possible. Chris’s hands on his knees pushed, spreading Leon’s legs wider apart, straining the muscles, and Leon shuddered all over at the sensation of being exposed and studied by those dark eyes, the hunger in Chris’s gaze making his heart race. 

“Chris,” he gasped involuntarily, moving his fingers faster, wanting this step to be over with so he could feel Chris inside. The other man didn’t answer, staring down at where Leon was fucking himself with sharp thrusts of the two fingers. Leon felt like he couldn’t breathe beneath the weight of Chris’s gaze. His cock throbbed dangerously and he gasped again, toes clenching. 

“Turn over.”

The order was so unexpected that Leon almost didn’t understand English for a moment. He looked up at Chris with a stupid expression, starting to pant with the thrusts of his hand. Chris growled again and dug his blunt nails into Leon’s knees. “Turn over.”

Leon yanked his fingers from his body and turned onto his knees. He felt hands on his hips, thumbs pressing into the meat of his ass, holding him in place. Then a palm flat against his back, pushing Leon down so his face with pressed into the pillows, spine arching into the air, arching towards Chris. He felt the breath of Chris’s words on his skin when Chris said, “Keep going.”

Leon topped off the slick on his fingers before reaching back between his legs and sliding three inside, moaned wantonly as Chris spread the cheeks of his ass, opening Leon up wide for him to watch. He’d never felt this exposed before, the sensation of being on display for the other man’s pleasure making his cock leak onto the throw beneath him. Leon fucked himself slowly with those three fingers, wanting to draw it out and put on a show for Chris, wanting the other man to need him as much as Leon needed him. He shut his eyes and tried to keep from cumming again, then nearly screamed as he felt the drag of Chris’s tongue around his stretched hole, the wet muscle dipping inside with Leon’s fingers. _“Oh fuck, oh fuck,”_ Leon babbled. “I’m gonna—”

Chris reached around and took Leon’s cock in his hand, squeezing tight at the base, not enough to hurt but enough to keep Leon’s orgasm at bay. He cried out in frustration, fingers moving jerkily as he desperately sought the release Chris wouldn’t let him have, that sinful tongue compensating for Leon’s inability. Chris groaned softly as he wormed his tongue deeper, sending Leon’s nerves alight with too much all at once, the thrill of what was happening making Leon dizzy with need. Leon moaned and pushed his face into the pillow, biting the fabric and praying he wasn’t too loud He couldn’t take it any longer, he needed Chris, needed to feel that heavy cock inside of him before he lost his fucking mind. Leon tore his fingers from his body again and turned his head, looking back at Chris with effort, gasping for breath before he started to beg, “Please, I need—”

Chris pulled away and flipped Leon onto his back again, dragging Leon down by his thighs so Leon’s slick, quivering entrance was pressed against the base of Chris’s erection. Leon whined helplessly and ground down, trying to entice him, trying to get Chris as close to insanity as he was. “Fuck me,” Leon pleaded, taking Chris’s cock and his own in his grip, jerking them both off in unison, desperate for anything. “Chris, please, Chris, I’m gonna fucking die if you don’t—“

Chris cut him off by slapping Leon’s hand away from their hard-ons and grabbing the lube from where it had been dropped onto the covers. “How much do I use?” Chris asked, his voice shaking almost as much as his fingers as he basically poured the contents of the entire bottle onto his cock. Leon watched Chris hiss and tense at the cold touch of the lube and reached up to take Chris by the shoulders and yank him down, connecting their lips with a searing kiss. 

“Just get inside me,” Leon choked out, shaking with need. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris moaned brokenly against him and wrapped Leon’s legs around his waist before reaching down between their bodies. The head of that huge cock pressed against Leon’s aching body, and it took all of his self control to not just flex his legs and force Chris inside of him, take it all in one go. But Chris would probably fucking hate that and Leon— Leon wanted this to be good for both of them. So he wrapped his arms around Chris’s shoulders and forced himself to think through the animalistic desperation, staring up into the man with all the trust in the world, the complete faith he had in Chris Redfield that he would always take care of him. “Do it,” he beckoned gently. “I can take it. I’m ready.”

Chris dropped his head to hide his face in Leon’s neck just before pressing his hips forward and slowly feeding his cock into Leon’s body. 

And that—

_Holy shit._

He was big, of fucking course Chris was big, but Leon hadn’t anticipated him being _this_ big. Leon’s body struggled to adjust, the stretch making his chest burn with acute appreciation of what was happening, of what they were doing, of Chris pushing inside of him for the first time ever. It punched the air from Leon’s lungs and he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think beyond the push of Chris inside of him that seemed to go on forever. Ages and ages, and _Chris kept going._ Only once Chris’s hips were flush against Leon’s ass did Leon finally have a flood of consciousness return to him. 

He became distantly aware that he was talking, begging, a feverish babble that tumbled past his lips uncontrollably intermixed with the sluttiest noises he’d ever made in his life, loud and piercing and impossible to ignore. His nails were clawing at Chris’s back, scrambling for purchase, for something to hold onto as his world was thrown violently into pieces by the stretch of Chris’s thick cock forcing him to know Chris and only Chris. 

Then Chris was pressing his lips to Leon’s, swallowing his uncontrollable speech and forced the words into an endless cry as Chris shifted his weight, braced himself with elbows on either side of Leon’s head, and _thrust._

Leon fell apart, bowing off the bed and trembling as Chris set a bruising pace, the man just as out of his mind as Leon was, his own powerless gasps and moans gracing Leon’s lips and tongues with near-reverent innocence, just a jumbled mass of phrases, telling Leon was he gorgeous and perfect and Chris couldn’t believe someone like him existed, words that Leon wished he had the sanity of mind to repeat back into Chris, because everything Chris said he loved about Leon was what Leon saw in him. He could only moan his approval and agreement and return, the moan pitching into a wail as Chris’s cock hit that spot inside of Leon that he’d only barely been able to tease before when he’d been with the other man who’s face he couldn’t recall, not when Chris was snapping his hips into Leon like he wanted to break the bed and Leon with it. 

The thump of the headboard against the wall matched the pounding of Leon’s heart. Chris was slamming into his prostate now, watching Leon writhe with debauched focus, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Leon like he could see his thoughts. And Leon couldn’t fucking breathe, couldn’t do anything but scream as Chris pounded into him. There was more noise from his lips, words that he didn’t understand until a phrase he recognized, a plea to the man above him, _”Let me cum.”_

Chris groaned, angled in to kiss Leon, reached between their bodies and only barely got his hand on Leon’s cock before Leon was arching off the bed and spilling between them, the world whiting out and bleeding away as the pleasure wracked his body and tore away his sense of self. He could barely hear Chris’s voice in his ear, fucked out noises that broke through the earth-shattering experience. As his orgasm tore through him, Leon dropped back onto the bed and pulled Chris into his chest, swallowing down the oversensitivity that was fraying his mind at the edges as he begged Chris to fill him, pleaded for Chris to cum inside, he wanted to feel it, wanted to feel _him,_ please, Chris, just give him—

Chris came with a shout that had Leon’s lungs rattling and he felt the man go taut, every muscle in that huge body wound tight. It seemed to go on forever, the tremble of Chris’s body as his hips jerked forward into Leon, warmth spreading inside. Leon held him through it, barely recovered from his own orgasm, but needing to feel Chris’s more than he had needed his own. He pressed his lips to Chris’s temple, the skin beneath his mouth heated and flushed. “So good,” Leon breathed, running his hands through Chris’s hair as the man struggled to come down. “You’re so good, Chris, you’re so fucking perfect.”

It ended abruptly, Chris’s arms giving out and his body dropping atop Leon’s with a grunt that Leon found adorable. He kept his arms around Chris, still holding him, refusing to let go as he trailed his fingertips up and down Chris’s spine, soothing the larger man, bringing him back to reality slowly and carefully. He felt Chris come back to life with lazy kisses to Leon’s neck, the movement sluggish, definitely exhausted. Then hands came from Leon’s waist to hold his sides, and they both took in, then let out a deep breath, perfect unison. Leon hummed gently at the soreness of his body, enjoying the feeling more than anything, even with how his GSW pinched from where Chris was splayed out atop him. They probably shouldn’t have done such strenuous activity with their injuries, but Leon liked to think the relief of being alive outweighed a doctor’s preventive advice. A peaceful silence settled in the hotel room and Leon almost felt like he could fall asleep like this. 

There was a buzz from the floor. Chris groaned and brought himself back up on shaky arms before reaching down and delicately pulling his cock from Leon’s body. Leon grimaced at the loss, closing his legs in a need to keep Chris’s cum inside. The dirty thought embarrassed him, and he felt lucky that his skin was still flushed from exertion so Chris couldn’t see his cheeks fill with shame. 

“My phone,” Chris huffed as he moved down the bed on coltish limbs, reaching to where he’d dropped his clothes to grab the cell and squint at the screen. “Jill and Carlos are here,” he told Leon, sounding disappointed, which Leon felt on a visceral level. “We should head down A-S-A-P. I’ll get a washcloth, we can get cleaned off, then head to Rebecca and Claire’s room. David wants to discuss the game plan.” As Chris strode to the bathroom to get that cloth, Leon watched the man’s toned and perfect ass with more than a little appreciation. 

When Chris came back, Leon blurted out, “Did you know you’re, like, stupid hot?”

He found the sputtered protest Chris weakly gave adorable. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“So then can I call you beautiful?” Leon asked, grinning wide at the flustered look in Chris’s eyes. “Because you are,” Leon insisted as he sat up and got the blood back in his legs. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Chris.”

“Look in a mirror, Leon.”

“I’m pre-teen as fuck,” Leon argued. “Parents point me out as the boy next door. I’m more Troy Bolton than Zac Efron. You? You’re art.”

Chris was obviously at a loss for words. Leon smirked and went to the edge of the bed on his knees, reaching out for Chris and pulling him in for another one of those fantastic kisses that he couldn’t get enough of. “You’re gorgeous, Chris,” he murmured. “Everything about you. The way you move and breathe and think and exist. How you fight. How you love. All of you and everything you are is beautiful in every way. Do me a favor and remember that, yeah?”

Chris cleared his throat and nodded jerkily before tossing the cold washcloth onto Leon’s bare skin and making him yelp. If that was the only retaliation Leon got for embarrassing Chris with the truth, he would call Chris beautiful day after day after day until it no longer scared the man to hear. “Gonna need another shower after that meeting,” Leon said idly. “And another four hours of sleep.”

“I warn you, I’m a furnace.”

Leon’s expression lit up. “You’re staying with me?”

Chris rolled his eyes like the answer should be obvious. “Get dressed,” he ordered instead of gracing Leon’s stupid question with an unnecessary answer. “They’re waiting for us.”

Leon couldn’t wipe the silly grin off his face at the grand “us” and indulged in one last drag of his eyes over Chris’s body before switching his sex brain to his work brain and readying himself for the fight ahead that he had no reason to fear with Chris at his side.

. . .

Jill Valentine had a stare that could kill a man, but she was still leagues less intimidating than Ada, so Leon wasn’t afraid to flash her a boyish smile as they shook hands and he introduced himself as, “Leon S. Kennedy.”

Jill seemed offset by Leon’s smile despite her own grim exterior, so when she told him her name— “Jill Valentine”— Leon could already tell he’d blown through her expectations of him. In contrast, Carlos Oliveira gave off the same young energy that Leon knew people saw in him, and when they shook hands and traded names, it felt like greeting a new friend more than a fellow soldier. 

By the old TV at the far end of the room, David Trapp was standing with his arms crossed and steady patience on his face. Chris had told Leon that David was a military strategist, and a damn good one at that. According to what Rebecca had told Chris about Caliban Cove, it was unlikely that they would have made it out alive without the Brit’s quick thinking and sharp eyes. John was to David’s right, taller than everyone else but one and telling terrible jokes to Rebecca that was making her smile regardless of the anxiety that was keeping her from relaxing in her seat on the bed. Claire was sitting with Rebecca, and standing at the bed beside Claire was—

“Barry Burton,” the huge man said as he threatened to break Leon’s hand with his grip. “Chris and I go way back, so hearing that you come highly recommended by him is a good argument in your favor.” Despite his words, Leon could see the distrust in the man’s eyes, the same distrust that John, David, Rebecca, Jill, and Carlos all shared. The only people who seemed to actually have faith in Leon’s use were Chris and Claire, which was fine by him. Leon seemed to work best when being underestimated. Low expectations were easy to exceed. Barry returned Leon’s aching hand to him and Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the t-shirt to make Leon sit beside him on the other bed. They weren’t touching and there was still a good inch of space between them, but still close enough to feel body heat. 

Chris had told Leon he didn’t want the others to observe what was happening between them both— he planned on telling them all outright. Leon didn’t want to say he was nervous considering the opinions of people he didn’t know only mattered in association with Chris, but he still didn’t like the idea of being judged by people who already thought he was some pretty boy who happened to fumble his way through an apocalypse. Chris’s faith meant a lot, but the distrust that reigned in the minds of these people would be difficult to overcome. 

“Are we ready?” David Trapp asked, his tone even. When everyone nodded, he uncrossed his arms and looked over all of their faces. “I know most of you are tired,” he said carefully. “And those of you who aren’t are beyond exhausted. I’m sorry to push this on all of you and I do wish we could be given a chance to recuperate, but what has happened in Raccoon City makes our next step all the more vital.” He stepped forward and pulled something from his back pocket, a slip of paper that he held up for them to see. “Our mysterious benefactor Trent has graced us with his presence once more.”

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Chris asked with a tight frown as David handed the piece of paper to John, who scanned and then passed it on. “First Jill, then you? Who else has he reached out to?”

“Me,” Carlos said, raising his hand like it was roll call in class. “He told me some shit— if it weren’t for him, I don’t think I would’ve made it out of Raccoon City myself. But the shit he knew, like the existence of weapons in areas that were locked off from the beginning? The guy knows more than he’s letting on. _De poca confianza_.”

“That may be true, but we can’t exactly be picky where we receive our information when it’s already so hard to find on our own,” David pointed out as the slip of paper made it into Leon’s hands. 

It was a set of coordinates with some dates and a few symbols like two handguns and an island, the word Dioscuri at the bottom. Looked like the usual Umbrella puzzle bullshit. Leon squinted a the coordinates. “The South Pacific Ocean,” he said to himself. When everyone around him fell quiet, he looked up and realized he’d been a little louder than he’d intended. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “The coordinates are probably an island out in the South Pacific Ocean, though I’m not sure which one exactly. I just know there’s no huge landmass in the area for these numbers. Is it another facility?”

“A prison,” David Trapp said, sounding distantly impressed. “We believe it to be somehow related to Umbrella, and it’s normally a research facility of any kind regardless. Can you gleam anything else?”

Leon shrugged, looking back at the paper, not getting much except— “Dioscuri is the name of the twins Castor and Pollux in Greek and Roman culture,” he said. “Castor and Pollux separate, Dioscuri together.” The word was sectioned away from everything else, at the bottom of the page with plenty of space to isolate it. He could be reaching, but it made sense to conclude, “Maybe that’s a clue about who or what you’re up against? Normally I wouldn't think much of formatting, but everything else is put together like it’s general content. Having Dioscuri at the bottom is almost like a title.”

David nodded slowly, watching Leon with sharp eyes. “What were you before Raccoon City, Mister Kennedy?”

“A cop,” Leon replied, handing Chris the paper, feeling guilty for something that he couldn’t name even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong. He saw Chris was glaring at David, angling himself between Leon and the other man. “Just— just a cop.”

“You’re pretty sharp for a cop,” John said. “Also pretty pretty. Anyone else notice that Umbrella seems to have a thing for blonds?”

“Leon survived that place just as well as I did,” Claire snapped, her face pink with indignation. “He shouldn’t have to defend himself.”

“Chris,” David interjected cautiously. “I’m sorry to say this, but there is a real possibility that you are letting your feelings cloud your judgment.”

“What fucking feelings?” Chris demanded, standing from the bed and facing David down with a fight in his eyes. Leon made to stand too because it just made sense that he would stand in defense of Chris who was defending him, but the man put a hand back, telling Leon to remain seated, at least for now. Leon drummed his fingers nervously on his leg, realizing he was being accused of some sort of treachery. Across the room, Claire was glaring at David with the same ferocity as her brother. “You don’t know anything about what Leon and I went through,” Chris snapped. “What fucking feelings, David?”

Beside David, John sighed. “We all heard you man— the whole hotel heard you.” John rapped the wall he was leaning against with his knuckles. “This shit ain’t steel and our room is next to yours. You’re wrapped around that kid’s finger.”

And—

Alright. 

Leon’s face burned with shame, knowing he’d been way too loud. Now David and John probably saw Leon the same way Chris has seen Ada. What a shit show. Jill Valentine was gaping at Chris like she’d been told some horrible, scandalous truth, and Leon wondered if he could just crawl back into Raccoon City and die quietly. 

Chris scowled and stood tall, squaring his shoulders. “That doesn’t have anything to do with this. What Leon and I do as consenting adults behind closed doors doesn’t carry shit in this conversation! Just because I happen to be attached to him a little more than your average partner doesn’t mean he’s looking to overthrow our efforts with sex and violence!”

“He could have easily manipulated you into trusting him, Chris,” David argued, though he looked like the argument itself caused him pain. Like he didn’t want to be accusing Leon of anything in the first place. “There’s no guarantee—“

“He’s just a fucking kid!” Chris exploded, and that was Leon’s cue. 

“Chris— it’s okay.” Leon stood and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder to pull him back and take the stand. “I know that I’m not one you guys,” he began carefully. “I don’t come with the default Redfield seal of approval like Claire does and I don’t have the same background as all of you and I know— I know what I look like. But I didn’t survive what I did just to be second guessed and accused of using Chris by a bunch of people who don’t know the first thing about me.”

He let this words rest in the air before continuing, not missing the guilt that shadowed David and John and Barry’s eyes. “I can’t even begin to imagine what all of you have lived through, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been through a hell of my own. I’m not here to gain footing or twist words or lay claim to being a hero. I’m here for the same reason that I became a cop— I’m here to help people. And honestly, if you wanna know how I figured out all of that shit? When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time in the library because I didn’t want to be anywhere near my home. I know what I do because I was afraid, not because I special and not because I’m spy. I’m definitely not using Chris. I just— I want to make sure what happened in Raccoon City never happens to anyone ever again.”

Silence pervaded but Leon kept his courage and stared David down, refusing to give an inch. He’d already proven his worth to Chris and that was the only opinion that really mattered to him. Everyone else could go fuck themselves. 

“I’ll throw my hat into the Kennedy ring too,” Claire chimed in. “And not just because I trust my brother’s judgment of people, which, by the way, should mean a lot to you guys. Chris was thinking there was a S.T.A.R.S. conspiracy long before Trent showed up for any of you. I trust Leon because when we first went into the city, every time we crossed paths, the only thing he cared about was my wellbeing and if I’d found my brother. And when the Umbrella facility was coming down? He told me to save myself first. That’s not how a villain talks to a random college student.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Leon said, thinking again of Ada. She’d been all about Leon and Chris getting to safety as well in the beginning. But then Claire arched a brow at him and Leon realized how dumb it was to be debating with the person who was trying to arguing in his favor. “Sorry,” he said, ducking his head. 

“Yeah, case in point,” Claire snorted. “Literally just tried to prove me wrong when I was helping him. He’s definitely not a spy. Too innocent.” Innocent was probably a bad word for Leon, but again, he was arguing with a supporter, and he really would take whatever support he could get at this point. 

“He’d be a pretty bad one,” Rebecca agreed, smiling at Leon a little. “And let’s be fair, David— people like him are few and far between. Chris and Jill and Barry and I are only part of this because we were tricked and locked in a mansion of death. Claire was going after her brother and you and John are trying to clean out all of the liars that used you. But Leon isn’t asking to join this fight for anything except the benefit of humanity and the safety of strangers. Going to war for the sake of helping people? That’s a rare kind of good that I don’t think we’ll find again anytime soon. Not like Leon, that is.”

David Trapp heaved a long suffering sigh and rubbed at his temples. Then, “I’m sorry.” Leon tried not to let the surprise show on his face in receiving an actual apology. After all, it wasn’t like David was _wrong_ to be distrustful. His accusation had been sound regardless of the limited information he’d drawn his assumption from. The man was a strategist. He had to consider every possibility— even the ones he didn’t like to think about. “Claire is right, Chris Redfield’s word carries a lot of weight. He’s— the original rebel, for lack of a better phrase. If he trusts you, then we have no reason to doubt you, just as we trust Mr. Oliveira from Ms. Valentine’s word.” He looked uncomfortable as he met Leon’s eyes and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

Leon suddenly felt very bad for the man. “It’s okay,” he said, holding his hands up because he wanted to show he wasn’t hurt by the accusations. “Like I said— can’t imagine what all of you have been through. And that includes the people who have betrayed you.”

David grimaced. “Your insight with the clues Trent gave us is very useful. If I were to leave you with that paper and a few extra resources, do you believe you could turn up anymore information?”

“Of course,” Leon replied brightly. “Happy to do it.”

“It is extremely important,” David insisted. “Chris and Claire’s wellbeing depends on it.”

What?

“Wait,” Jill cut in before Leon could. Behind Leon, Chris went rigid. “What are Chris and Claire doing?”

“The location Trent is intending to send us is Rockfort Island in the South Pacific,” David told them all, motioning for Leon and Chris to sit back down, which they did, though Chris was staring at David with something close to trepidation. “Unfortunately, he didn’t intend for _all_ of us to go. The island itself is an old prison and we believe it contains an Umbrella facility much like the others we’ve begun to sniff out across the globe.” He hesitated. “It’s a two-person job with specific requirements to fill, and Barry and Rebecca and John and I discussed it heavily before coming to the conclusion that it should be between Chris and Claire or Chris and Jill.”

“I’m going with Chris,” Claire said firmly.

“As we figured,” David said. “But Chris is a definite. This operation requires piloting skills that Chris has proven to be superior in and the second person has to be— well, slight.” He glanced between Claire and Jill apologetically. “Rebecca is off the table as she is going to be meeting with a few colleagues of mine and discuss vaccine production. And even then, I was going to push for Claire’s participation. I know her arms training may be officially lacking, but she held well on her own and Ms. Valentine is still recovering from Raccoon City and— we just don’t have a lot of options.” The man’s arms were listless at his sides as it slowly sunk into Leon’s brain that he and Chris were going to be split up. “I’m sorry,” David told all of them, but he looked at Leon the longest. “My hands are tied.”

“Leon’s my partner,” Chris began, but Leon tapped Chris on the arm subtly with his fingers to stop him. 

“It was the best decision we could make,” Barry added. “Considering the circumstances. David and I will be working on ensuring our families are safe from Umbrella’s reach— all of them.” Barry gave Jill a pointed look, which somehow made the woman relax. “John’s working on resources. Planes, trains, automobiles, whatever we need. Bullets and rockets and anything. We’ve all still got a few contacts in the big businesses, but if we’re really going to take this fight straight to those fucker’s front doors, we need to have the resources necessary to get the job done, and get it done for good.”

“We’re between a rock and a hard place,” John said. “The hard place being Umbrella’s dick waiting to fuck us, and the rock being our limited numbers. We don’t have a lot to spare and even less to go around. And as Carlos will be needing protection as he leaves the country, that protection being Jill since Claire will be going with Chris, we’re going to be stretched thin as it is.” 

Leon glanced to the hispanic man and saw the remorse on his face. He wasn’t joining the fight, and Leon honestly didn’t blame him. Facing down a villainous pharmaceutical corporation was one thing— facing down zombies and monsters was another entirely. 

“That doesn’t tell me what you’re going to be doing with Leon,” Chris snapped, bringing up a good point. “Everyone’s got their marching orders except for him.” Chris stood again from the bed and Leon could practically feel the menacing anger coming off the man in waves. “I swear to god, if you plan to send him into a fight alone, I’ll—”

“Mr. Kennedy will not be on any combative operation without any backup,” David interjected calmly.

“Down, dog,” Claire stage-whispered.

“You already fucked him, there’s no reason to stake your claim,” John added.

David sighed heavily again “Bringing up Mr. Redfield and Mr. Kennedy’s relationship in a derogatory manner from here on out is _banned._ And Mr. Redfield, I can promise you— I would not be sending anyone in this room into anything alone. Not willingly, at the very least. Mr. Kennedy will be staying behind with Barry and me. At first, we intended to use his insight for aid in the protection of our families. But now that it appears that he’s a kind of puzzle wunderkind, I believe it would be very helpful to have him digging into the sordid history of Umbrella.” David nodded to Leon. “Mr. Kennedy willing, of course.”

Leon could do that, except—

“I want to help with your families too,” he said. “And more importantly, I’d like to find Sherry someone to stay with.”

A silence fell over the room. Leon didn’t understand until he realized everyone had just forgotten about the little girl.

“She doesn’t deserve to suffer any further than that night,” Leon said, knowing he would take responsibility for the little girl, and do so gladly. “I’ll find her a place to stay, a good home. I’m technically not KIA in the system yet, I can still run background checks and find addresses if I can get to the right sites,” which he could, Leon wasn’t exactly a hacker, but he knew a thing or two about getting into places he didn’t belong. It was how he’d avoided being taken away from his parents for his entire life as a minor. “I’ll find her a home and make sure Umbrella has no idea where she is. She deserves a chance at a real life.”

Chris made a soft noise that sounded almost like a whimper of pain and Leon’s eyes shot to the man, not missing the ache in his expression. He probably felt the same about Leon as Leon felt for Sherry. Leon steeled his jaw and addressed the room again. “I can take care of her and then help all of you. But as far as I’m concerned, she was the only true victim of Raccoon City that we managed to save. The rest of us fell in for our own reasons.” Even if Rebecca saw Leon as a victim in his own way, Leon knew that he’d been the one to drive himself into the city in the first place. But Sherry— Sherry hadn’t chosen her parents. She had no control over her birth. She didn’t ask for any of what happened. “Let’s just do right by one person while we can.”

“… You have my permission, though I doubt you would care even if I told you no,” David said after a pause that had filled Leon with anxiety. David Trapp really was sharp. Of course Leon would have taken care of Sherry, with or without everyone else’s agreement. Leon was a cop before anything else. He took care of people— that was the bottom line. “Anyone have any arguments?”

“Are you sure you should be handling the girl?” Jill asked with a frown. “No offense, but you’re rather young, and she’s, what? Ten?”

“Twelve,” Claire correcting, frowning.

“You told us she’s Sherry _Birkin_ ,” Jill emphasized. “The daughter of one of the most important Umbrella scientists and also the only surviving existence of the G-Virus that we know of. Yeah, it got cured, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t linger. We know next to nothing about these viruses, who knows what could still be inside of her and who could want it? I don’t know if trusting Sherry Birkin’s protection to some cop that looks like a child who only had one day on the job is a good idea.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chris demanded. “Did nothing I just say get through to you?”

“All you said was that you trust him,” Jill shot back. “Considering I thought I trusted Wesker once upon a time, that doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

Chris scowled “Then how’s this? Leon fought back the G-Virus infected Birkin _twice_ entirely on his own, and he killed a Tyrant. He also cleared out two levels of the police station of zombies and saved my ass more times than I can count. If I had to choose between any of you who I would take with me to that island, it would honestly be him. No offense intended, but I’ve never had anyone watch my back better than Leon. Maybe you don’t have to have any faith in him, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to just let go of someone as skilled as him. And right now, the delegation of skillsets is requiring him to stay behind with David and Barry and keeping our people safe so we don’t have to be afraid for them while we’re out there fighting.”

“Leon’s not looking out for our families,” Jill argued, though her defense was weakening. Leon almost felt sorry for her. He didn’t know why the woman disliked him so much, but he felt like someone as capable as her would have a good reason. “He’s looking out for the daughter of two notorious researchers with the remnants of a virus still in her veins.”

“He can handle it,” David Trapp interjected, his tone firm with no room for argument. “I’m sure he wouldn’t volunteer if he felt he was out of his depth. Umbrella will need to recover, they will likely need to take time to measure the body count of their own employees. If anything, this is the perfect window of opportunity for Mr. Kennedy to get Ms. Birkin somewhere safe.” David nodded to Leon. “Whatever you need, we will do our best to provide.”

“Thank you,” Leon said, genuinely relieved to have David’s vote of confidence as well, though he hated being called “Mr. Kennedy”. “I— I plan on starting with her extended family and checking them for any connection to Umbrella. It might take a while. I can multitask and help you and Burton with your families as well.”

“It’s greatly appreciated,” David said. 

“My little girls will love to have a new playdate, if only for a few days,” Barry said. “And my wife is gonna insist on feeding you until you pop, so Chris better say goodbye to his trophy boyfriend.”

As Leon flushed, David groaned and pinched his nose. “What did I say about their relationship?”

“Nothing wrong with some friendly teasing,” Claire giggled. 

“Pretty sure my boyfriend will be a trophy no matter what he looks like,” Chris replied. 

“Are we decided then?” David asked pointedly, but even he was hiding a smile. Leon— really liked the idea of this man being his leader. He wasn’t Chris, but he wasn’t— he seemed like a good man. Leon wasn’t going to mind following David Trapp’s orders while Chris was away. “The Redfields to Rockfort, Ms. Valentine with Mr. Oliveira to South America, John to our few friends in Europe, Rebecca to my colleagues, and Mr. Kennedy with me and Mr. Burton, securing the safety of our families and Sherry Birkin.” His eyes swept the room, looking for debate or concerns. “Questions?”

There were none. 

“Very well,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of the day and the night and know it’s the only reprieve any of us will have for quite some time. We all depart to our respective duties early tomorrow morning.” David paused, then held his head high. “I believe in all of you— in us. Umbrella has already done the unthinkable and claimed thousands more lives than any of us were ever willing to believe they were capable of. We’re alone in this fight, but I believe we can bring them down amongst ourselves. God willing, what happened in Raccoon City will never be repeated and all of you will return to your normal lives. Umbrella will become nothing more than a bad memory and then— only then— will the fight be over. And I believe that we can do this. Together.”

David’s words seeped into Leon’s bones and, despite the circumstances, he found himself happy to be among these people and happy to have a purpose. Beside him, Chris leaned into Leon, just the bare touch of their sides being enough to make Leon’s heart race. 

Leon hated Umbrella— of course he did. But he was thankful to those monsters for allowing him to meet Chris Redfield.

John was the one to break the resolved silence with a clap. “On that note, I’m gonna go raid the snack machine and check out the pay-per-view in this place— unless Redfield and Kennedy wanna save me some cash and go for round two?”

“Oh my god,” Rebecca wheezed.

“I’m gonna break your nose,” Chris deadpanned. 

“Well it’s not like I can turn off my ears!” John insisted, laughing. “Gag yourselves, I don’t know!”

“I did learn a few things about you today, Chris, that I was honestly better off never knowing,” Barry said. “Like how perfect your co—”

“I’m gonna jump out the window,” Leon blurted out, his face so red that he felt like he had a fever. “Seriously, just— flying leap, right through the glass, out the window.”

“No one’s allowed to make fun of my brother and Leon except for me,” Claire said. “All of you get your own brothers and brothers’ adorable, badass boyfriend.”

Aside from stone faced David, Jill was the only person who wasn’t laughing or smiling in some way at the exchange. Leon suddenly understood why she didn’t like him. He— suddenly didn’t feel a lot like smiling either. Then Chris put his arm around Leon’s shoulders, and he attention was torn from Jill to Chris, and the need to smile returned because it was hard to keep from feeling anything but amazing when Chris was touching him without feeling like he had to ask permission.

“If I’m really about to be sent away against my better judgement, you better get yourself some earplugs, John,” Chris said with a leer. “I’ll spot you if they’re too expensive for you, considering you can’t even buy yourself porn and instead need to perv on my boyfriend.”

Ah, Leon was Chris’s boyfriend by Chris’s word now. That was pretty much heaven. He leaned into the other man, feeling dazedly joyful in a way he hadn’t felt— ever. And even though Chris was going to be leaving, even though they were going to be forced to split up again regardless of how they’d been taught splitting up to be a bad idea, Leon couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to get better. Raccoon City had been the downhill spiral— it was only up from here on out.

. . .

“I’ll be back soon,” Chris said as he continued to stall. His sister was already in the van that was going to be taking the Redfield siblings to the private airstrip that held their ride to Rockfort, and Leon could see John tapping impatiently at the steering wheel over Chris’s shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered to hurry Chris along. 

Chris’s hands were in his hair, their foreheads pressed together. Leon’s body was still sore from round— fucking who knew at that point, Leon just knew that everything was sore and he loved it. There was a mark on Chris’s neck, just barely visible over the hem of Chris’s shirt, a bruise Leon had sucked into his skin. Leon was having trouble switching his focus from play to work, the blood still singing in his veins from only ten minutes ago, when Leon had been bent over the bathroom counter, Chris fucking into him hard from behind, the man’s fingers in Leon’s mouth, trying to keep him quiet and failing as Leon fell apart, screaming around the digits. Really, how was Leon supposed to be able to focus when his hands were still trembling and he could still feel the emptiness of Chris’s absence in his body? Leon wished he didn’t have to go.

“Just keep yourself and your sister safe,” Leon told him, making himself smile. “Don’t worry about anything else. David said we’re probably going to go underground, so once you and Claire are done and come back stateside, you still won’t see me for a while.” Chris grimaced and Leon hummed softly, understanding his reluctance. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “I’ll be fine. It’s not like it can get any worse than what we’ve already been through.”

“Knock on wood,” Chris mumbled. 

“We’ll see each other again soon,” Leon swore to Chris. “Zombies couldn’t keep us apart— what else possibly could?”

“You better be in one piece, Kennedy.”

“Jesus christ, Chris, one day you’ll trust me, and when that day comes, I’ll be so shocked that I’ll have a stroke.”

Chris huffed and tugged Leon by his hair for a kiss. Behind them, John laid down on the horn and Claire catcalled. “Go,” Leon murmured into the other man. “You’ve saved the world twice, right? Third time’s the charm.”

“When I get back and you finish your shit, I’m handcuffing us together.”

“Kinky.”

“You know what I mean, Leon.”

“I do.” He smiled wider. “I’ll probably do the same. I’ve only been through one apocalypse and I had you with me for most of it. Who knows what’ll happen if I have to face the next one without you?”

Chris didn’t smile back. “Believe me, Leon,” he whispered. “You don’t need me.”

“Let’s get it in gear, Redfield!”

“Give him your handkerchief and call it a day!”

“I have to go,” Chris said with more than a little hesitation. “I’ll miss you.”

“Right back at you.” Leon kissed him one last time. “Go— make the world a little safer.”

Chris pulled back and stared into Leon like he was committing him to memory. Then he turned away and jogged for the van, climbing inside as his sister waved goodbye to Leon, shouting a promise to look after Chris for him. John peeled out of the motel parking lot and Leon didn’t move until the van was a speck in the distance down the road. 

“Mr. Kennedy?”

Leon flinched at the title, then turned to see Sherry, who was standing just outside the motel door of Rebecca’s room. “Hey,” he greeted gently, opening up an arm for her to barrel into his side. Now that he knew he was going to be looking after her until he could find someone more capable than him, Leon was making sure to give her whatever little comfort she wanted. She’d been brave enough for a lifetime in Raccoon City— there was nothing wrong in letting her take what she needed from him. And with the lives they had both experienced, Leon was more than happy to show her that the world wasn’t as dark and cruel as she’d been shown. “Call me Leon,” he told her for the millionth time. “Mr. Kennedy is my father and… I’m not my father.”

Sherry nodded and fisted her tiny hand in the back of his shirt. “Your father was mean.” 

One thing Leon had quickly picked up was how keen Sherry was. It had barely taken a few evading responses about his parents for her to figure out that Leon hadn’t exactly come from a great place either, just like her. Maybe Jill had had a point in saying that Leon wasn’t the best person to protect her from Umbrella’s violent reach, but Leon really did believe he was the best person to understand her and help her recover. “He was very mean,” Leon agreed softly. “So call me Leon.”

She nodded again. “Are we leaving soon, Leon?”

“In an hour. David and Barry will be meeting with specific family members while I get away from here and start looking into backgrounds.” He’d be on his own for a little bit, a few weeks tops while he made sure his checks were thorough and extending beyond regular police research, but it wasn’t like Umbrella even knew his name or to look for Sherry. Everyone connected to Umbrella who had known Leon S. Kennedy was in the city was gone and Umbrella would be sifting through body bags for ages before they realized Sherry wasn’t among the dead. He had time to spend a little more effort on ensuring whoever Sherry went to was the best.

Sherry looked up at him. “And you’re coming with me?”

Leon took her hand from the back of his shirt to hold it in his own. “I’m with you, Sherry. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She finally smiled and then tugged at his grip. “I wanna show you the braids Claire taught me last night!”

Leon followed her and easily switched his focus. As long as he was Sherry’s pseudo-guardian until someone better could be found, he was going to give the little girl everything he had. Then Chris would come back and Umbrella would be broken into shambles, and Leon would finally be able to rest easy knowing the world was in good shape once more. As he’d realized the day before—

Raccoon City had been a steep downhill. It was only up from here.

. . .

Two weeks later, men in black tactical gear with automatic weapons cornered him in a gas station after he’d failed to lose the unmarked vehicle that had been tailing him. Sherry was long gone, running back to the safe house they’d designed for emergencies, and Leon was already counting down the seconds until Sherry would call David once Leon failed to reach her. Sherry would tell them what had happened so they’d come pick the little girl up. She’d be taken somewhere safe and Chris— Chris get the news and then he’d come for Leon. Chris would come for him.

That was what Leon repeated to himself even as he was zip-tied and gagged with a bag thrown over his head, tossed in the back of another unmarked van and driven to god knew where. That was what he told himself as he sat in a metal chair, hands and ankles cuffed, and isolated for what felt like a lifetime. That was what he told himself when the interrogation lasted into its twelfth hour and his sanity and strength finally gave way at the news that Sherry had been found wandering on the side of the road and was asking for a “Leon S. K.”. 

Chris would come for him.

That was what Leon told himself as he signed his life away to the President’s USSTRATCOM in return for Sherry’s protective custody and the promise that he’d be put to work taking down Umbrella whether he wanted to or not.

Chris would come for him.

_Chris would come for him._


End file.
